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THE

OSWALD Review An InternationalJournal OfUndergraduate Research and Criticism In the Discipline ofEnglish

Volume VI Fall 2004

nm OSWALD Review An International Journal ofUndergraduate Research and Criticism in the Discipline ofEnglish

Editors

Phebe Davidson Distinguished Professor Department ofEnglish USC Aiken Aiken, SC 29801 phebed@usca..edu

Editorial Review Board

SusanStiritz Washington University

Ronald West Southern Illinois University

Tom Mack Professor and Chair Department ofEnglish USC Aiken Aiken, SC 2980I tomm@usca.edu

Josephine A. Koster Winthrop UniversiJy

Kenneth G. Pobo Widener University

Ronald F. Lunsford University of North Carolina at Charlotte

Staff Interns

Michael Clune Senior, English University ofSouth CarolinaAiken

ZekeMiller Senior, English Education University ofSouth Carolina Aiken

,?

it

1

~

THE

OSWALD Review

CONTENTS: CONTENTS: (con't)

1. Neither Devil nor Angel, Sinner nor Saint: Moving Beyond a Dichotomized View of the Fallen Woman

in Bram Stoker's Dracula and Christina Rosetti's "Goblin Market"

Kristin Kallaher

Agnes Scott College Atlanta, Georgia

35. The Underground Man and Meursault: Alienating Consequences of Self-Authentication

Emily Rainville

Messiah College

Grantham, Pennsylvania

59. Sins of the Father: Patriarchy and the Old South in the Early Works of William Faulkner

John Easterbrook

Manhattan College

Riverdale, New York

Autobiography, Patriarchy, and Motherlessness87. in Frankenstein

Lynsey Griswold Fordham University

Bronx, New York

To William Godwin 103.

Matthew Querino Framingham State College

Framingham, Massachusetts

Neither Devil nor Angel, Sinner nor Saint: Moving Beyond a Dichotomized View of the Fallen

Woman in Bram Stoker's Dracula and Christina Rossetti's "Goblin Market"

Kristin Kallaher Agnes Scott College

Atlanta, Georgia

'You, Sweet, ... Mistress, Wife, and Muse, Were you for mortal woman meant?

Your praises give a hundred clues To mythological intent!' .,. How proud she always was

To feel how proud he was of her!

"The Angel in the House" (1854)

Coventry Patmore's early poetic celebration ofwoman

as a pure, angelic, domestic goddess remains a strongly

resonant work with concurrent Victorian literature and a

strongly prescient work of the Victorian literature to follow.

Regardless ofhow socially and historically accurate Patmore's

representation ofsuch an inhumanly perfect Victorian woman

is, the female «angel in the house" has come to define our

Neither Devil nor Angel, Sinner nor Saint: Moving Beyond a Dichotomized View of the Fallen

Woman in Bram Stoker's Dracula and Christina Rossetti's "Goblin Market"

Kristin Kallaher Agnes Scott College

Atlanta, Georgia

'You, Sweet, ... Mistress, Wife, and Muse, Were you for mortal woman meant?

Your praises give a hundred clues To mythological intent!' .,. How proud she always was

To feel how proud he was of her!

"The Angel in the House" (1854)

Coventry Patmore's early poetic celebration ofwoman

as a pure, angelic, domestic goddess remains a strongly

resonant work with concurrent Victorian literature and a

strongly prescient work of the Victorian literature to follow.

Regardless ofhow socially and historically accurate Patmore's

representation ofsuch an inhumanly perfect Victorian woman

is, the female «angel in the house" has come to define our

4 2

understanding ofwomanhood as it existed in the years between

1837 and 1901, when Queen Victoria reigned supreme in

England. The "angel in the house" personifies the attitudes of

moral righteousness, prudishness, and sexual repression that

have become such popularly familiar perceptions ofVictorian

society's expression of sexuality.

Early in the century, Victorian gender theory espoused

the idea that men were seen as lustful, sinful creatures who

took advantage of innocent, fragile women. Later in the era,

however, the tables turned and women were held accountable

for appeasing their sexual appetites, while men simply could

not be blamed for fulfilling their own innate, sexual needs

(Lee, Victorian Web). Thus, a lady's classification as an "angel

in the house" depended not only on her remaining in the

domestic realm but, more importantly, on her intact chastity.

Any woman who gave in to promiscuous or sexual acts outside

the bond of marriage became a social pariah who had fallen

from her pedestal, never to rise again-an act which

establishes the relationship between angels in the house and

r­ 3

fallen womenas a dichotomoUS one.These classificationsrepresent

polar opposites.

If angels in the house are certainly well represented

in Victorian literature, fallen women-from Tennyson's Lady

ofShalott to Hardy's Tess-are perhaps more. By applying

the concept of the fallen woman to Lucy and Mina in Bram

Stoker's Dracula (1897), one can see that each is neither

devil nor angel, sinner nor saint. Understanding where Lucy

and Mina lie on a pure-to-fallen woman continuum illuminates

significant differences in their status which cannot be gleaned

from defining the two women as exclusively virtuous or fallen.

By incorporating an examination of Christina Rossetti's

seminal poem "GoblinMarket" (1862), which radically twists

the tired tale of the fallen woman by rehabilitating her into

society, we can provide a literary context for Dracula to help

us move beyond oversimplified dichotomies.

Shortly after the publication ofPatmore's "The Angel

in the House," Christina Rossetti published Goblin Market

and Other Poems, (1862). The work "was received like a

4

breath offresh air over a rather stale poetic landscape, and almost

overnight Rossetti became famous" (Blain 112). At the time of

publication, Rossetti worked alongside her sister, Maria, at the

St. Mary Magdalene Penitentiary for fallen women, endeavoring

to "equip fallen women with the spiritual enlightenment, moral

fortitude, and domestic skills necessary for them to escape their

former depravity" (Escobar 134).

Heavily influenced by Rossetti's work at the House

ofMercy, "Goblin Market" describes two sisters living in a

country cottage. Each day at twilight all the maids in the

countryhear the cries ofgoblin merchants peddling their fresh,

succulent fruit, but the women know better than to eat it, for

"[they] must not look at goblin men, / [They] must not buy

their fruits: Who knows Upon what soil [the goblins] fed /

Their hungry thirsty roots?" (Rosetti 116; lines 42-45). While

her sister Lizzie "thrust a dimpled finger / In each ear, shut

eyes and ran," "curious Laura chose to linger," and she "reared

her glossy head" to look at the goblins as they tramped through

the country (52, 69, 67 - 68).

5

When Laura decides to indulge her temptations by

watching and listening to the goblins' "shrill repeated" cries \

I~ of "come buy, come buy," she mirrors Lucy Westenra's

1 forwardness in Chapter V of Dracula (89 - 90). Lucy, in a

letter to her best friend Mina Harker, voices her fickle wish

to accept the proposals ofall three of her suitors. She asks,

"Why can't they let a girl marry three men, or as many as

want her, and save all this trouble?" (Stoker 60).

Each woman, either by her actions or words, reveals

her desire for something she knows she either should not or

cannot have. Laura has already said "we must not buy [the

goblins'] fruits," just as Lucy voices her own knowledge of

the sinfulness of what she has wondered-"But [to ask such

a question] is heresy, and I must not say it" (line 43; Stoker

60). Unwittingly, both women have set themselves up to take

the fall.

Because she did not run and hide like her sister, Laura

encounters the goblins. She innocently purchases fruit from

them with "a precious golden lock" of her hair, figuratively

L

6 7

sacrificing hermaidenhead as she proceeds to feast on fruit thatis to look upon Sir Lancelot. She loses her innocence-----a socially

"sweeter than honey from the rock" (126, 129). constructed, subjectively understood concept-rather than

Victorian England's fallen women and St.

Mary Magdalene's prodigal daughters

experienced a need (whether physical want or

desire) and sacrificed their maidenheads as

well. The truth of the poem and Christina

Rossetti's society was that women would pay

dearly for such an exchange. ( Escobar xx)

When it comes to literary depictions ofwomen who "sacrificed

their maidenheads," an important distinction is that the act in

literature, as with Laura, Lucy, and Mina, is usually figurative.

Rare cases were those such as Hardy's Tess of the

D'UberviIles, who experiences a literal loss ofvirginity when

she is raped and subsequently becomes pregnant. futercourse

determines fallen woman status in a clear cut case like Tess's.

Yet most authors substituted softer, figurative

representations of a woman's fall, such as Tennyson's Lady

ofShalott who leads a cursed life after gazing out her window

'I- literally losing her physical virginity through engaging in the

,n act ofsexual intercourse. "GoblinMarket" and Dracula follow

I.

in this pattern but with increased sexual suggestiveness and

symbolism. Rossetti and Stoker both exhibit a reticence to

speak frankly in sexual terms, but they do infuse these two

works with incredibly strong sexual undercurrents through

their usage offigurative representations. Rossetti was a deeply

religious woman, which explains a large part ofher restraint.

As ChristopherBentleyhaswrittenregarding the influences

governing Stoker and Victorianwriters in general, ''the obscenity

laws, the tyranny ofthe circulating libraries, and the force ofpublic

opinion were, throughout the greaterpartofthe nineteenth century,

powerful constraints on any author who wrote for the general

public..." (142). Thus, authors necessarily devisedhighlycreative

figurative substitutes for the event ofa woman's loss ofvirginity.

In "Goblin Market," Rossetti makes use of Garden of Eden

symbolism. Laura's eating ofthe tempting, juicy, fresh-from­

8

the-vine goblin fruit stands in figuratively for the sexual act and her

loss ofinnocence. InDracula, Stokeraccentuatesthe symbolically

sexual nature ofthe act offluid transfer: Lucyand Mina drink

blood, a staple ritual ofvampires established in the traditional

mythology and folklore.

In "Goblin Market," the description of Laura eating

the fruit for the first time is blatantly sexually suggestive:

"She sucked and sucked and sucked the more / Fruits which

that unknown orchard bore; / She sucked until her lips were

sore ... " (134 - 136). When she returns home, "Lizzie met

her at the gate / Full of wise upbraidings":

[You) should not loiter in the glen

in the haunts of goblin men.

Do you not remember Jeanie,

How she met them in the moonlight,

Took their gifts both choice and many ...

But ever in the noonlight

She pined and pined away;

9

Found them no more but dwindled and grew

grey;

Then fell with the first snow,

While to this day no grass will grow

Where she lies low. " (141 -;-159)

Jeanie's story foreshadows Laura's own physical and

emotional withdrawal even though Laura herself does not

realize she has already fallen and is on the same path as Jeanie,

who represents the ultimate stereotypical fallen woman.

Laura seems to understand her sacrifice on some level,

though, because when she initially clipped her "precious

golden lock" with which to buy the fruit, "she dropped a tear

more rare than pearl" (127). Her single tear indicates her

awareness of making the exchange Escobar mentioned.

Unaware of just how dearly she will pay for the exchange,

however, Laura hushes her sister's speech, telling Lizzie her

"mouth waters still" and she will simply buy more fruit the

next night to appease her growing hunger (166). Laura spends

Sought them by night and day, the next day in an "absent dream ... sick in part" and "longing l

1----­

8

the-vine goblin fruit stands in figuratively for the sexual act and her

loss ofinnocence. InDracula, Stokeraccentuatesthe symbolically

sexual nature ofthe act offluid transfer: Lucyand Mina drink

blood, a staple ritual ofvampires established in the traditional

mythology and folklore.

In "Goblin Market," the description of Laura eating

the fruit for the first time is blatantly sexually suggestive:

"She sucked and sucked and sucked the more / Fruits which

that unknown orchard bore; / She sucked until her lips were

sore ... " (134 - 136). When she returns home, "Lizzie met

her at the gate / Full of wise upbraidings":

[You) should not loiter in the glen

in the haunts of goblin men.

Do you not remember Jeanie,

How she met them in the moonlight,

Took their gifts both choice and many ...

But ever in the noonlight

She pined and pined away;

9

Found them no more but dwindled and grew

grey;

Then fell with the first snow,

While to this day no grass will grow

Where she lies low. " (141 -;-159)

Jeanie's story foreshadows Laura's own physical and

emotional withdrawal even though Laura herself does not

realize she has already fallen and is on the same path as Jeanie,

who represents the ultimate stereotypical fallen woman.

Laura seems to understand her sacrifice on some level,

though, because when she initially clipped her "precious

golden lock" with which to buy the fruit, "she dropped a tear

more rare than pearl" (127). Her single tear indicates her

awareness of making the exchange Escobar mentioned.

Unaware of just how dearly she will pay for the exchange,

however, Laura hushes her sister's speech, telling Lizzie her

"mouth waters still" and she will simply buy more fruit the

next night to appease her growing hunger (166). Laura spends

Sought them by night and day, the next day in an "absent dream ... sick in part" and "longing l

1----­

10

for the night" (211 - 212, 215). The evening comes slowly, and

Laura finds at twilight she canno longerhear the goblins cry, "come

buy, come buy" or "discern[] even one goblin / Racing, whisking,

tumbling, hobbling" (232, 236 - 237). She "turned cold as stone

/ To find her sister heard that cry alone" (253 - 254). Laura's

withdrawal symptoms begin almost immediately upon returning

home:

[She] crept to bed, and lay

Silent till Lizzie slept;

Then sat up in a passionate yearning,

And gnashed her teeth for baulked desire, and

wept

As ifher heart would break ... (264 - 268)

Her "hair grew thin and gray; / She dwindled" with "sunk

eyes and faded mouth" (277 - 278, 288). Laura's withdrawal

resembles that experienced by modem-day drug addicts who

find themselves deprived ofdrugs to support their habit.

Laura's decline in physical and mental health parallels

that ofLucy, who almost as soon as we meet her needs constant

11 '1/

blood transfusions to keep her alive. We can compare Laura's u

deterioration with Lucy's diminishing health as meticulously

recorded by Mina in her journal:

Lucy seems to be growing weaker ... I do not

understand Lucy's fading away as she is doing

.,. all the time the roses in her cheeks are

fading, and she gets weaker and more languid

day by day; at night I hear her gasping as if for

air. (Stoker 92).

Dr. Seward later records that "[Lucy] was ghastly, chalkily pale;

the red seemedto have gone even from her lips and gums, and the

bones ofher face stood out prominently; even her breathing was

painful to see or hear ..." (112 - 113). Just as Laura longs for the

taste ofgoblin fruit and the nourishment it will provide her, Lucy

craves the blood which has become necessary to replenish the

supply Dracula drains from her each night. Lucy develops a

dependence on blood, as it literally becomes necessary to sustain

her life. Laura's fall, on the other hand, can be traced back to

one event -her eating the goblin fruit. Once she has eaten, she

10

for the night" (211 - 212, 215). The evening comes slowly, and

Laura finds at twilight she canno longerhear the goblins cry, "come

buy, come buy" or "discern[] even one goblin / Racing, whisking,

tumbling, hobbling" (232, 236 - 237). She "turned cold as stone

/ To find her sister heard that cry alone" (253 - 254). Laura's

withdrawal symptoms begin almost immediately upon returning

home:

[She] crept to bed, and lay

Silent till Lizzie slept;

Then sat up in a passionate yearning,

And gnashed her teeth for baulked desire, and

wept

As ifher heart would break ... (264 - 268)

Her "hair grew thin and gray; / She dwindled" with "sunk

eyes and faded mouth" (277 - 278, 288). Laura's withdrawal

resembles that experienced by modem-day drug addicts who

find themselves deprived ofdrugs to support their habit.

Laura's decline in physical and mental health parallels

that ofLucy, who almost as soon as we meet her needs constant

11 '1/

blood transfusions to keep her alive. We can compare Laura's u

deterioration with Lucy's diminishing health as meticulously

recorded by Mina in her journal:

Lucy seems to be growing weaker ... I do not

understand Lucy's fading away as she is doing

.,. all the time the roses in her cheeks are

fading, and she gets weaker and more languid

day by day; at night I hear her gasping as if for

air. (Stoker 92).

Dr. Seward later records that "[Lucy] was ghastly, chalkily pale;

the red seemedto have gone even from her lips and gums, and the

bones ofher face stood out prominently; even her breathing was

painful to see or hear ..." (112 - 113). Just as Laura longs for the

taste ofgoblin fruit and the nourishment it will provide her, Lucy

craves the blood which has become necessary to replenish the

supply Dracula drains from her each night. Lucy develops a

dependence on blood, as it literally becomes necessary to sustain

her life. Laura's fall, on the other hand, can be traced back to

one event -her eating the goblin fruit. Once she has eaten, she

12

has fallen. Lucy's fall is, however, more difficult to pinpoint,

occurring in stages rather than at a precise moment.

Lucy's descent from lady to fallen woman begins when

she rhetorically asks why she cannot marry all three of her

suitors. Stoker punishes Lucy for her forwardness by having

Dracula visit her each night, tainting her purity by establishing

an intimate, highly sexually charged relationship in which he

drinks blood from her neck. These visits take place on the sly,

outside recorded observations in Mina's, Dr. Seward's, and

Jonathan's journals; we hear only that the two puncture

wounds on Lucy's neck refuse to heal. In an ironic twist of

fate, Lucy's wish to marry as many men as had proposed to

her comes true in a symbolic sense: Dr. Seward, Quincy

Morris, and her fiance Arthur all give her their blood via

transfusions.

The act oftransfusingblood, ofpenetrating Lucy's

bodywith the phallic needle andenabling the men

to deposit their own fluids in her, conjures up

images of gang rape ... Each transfusion

13

symbolizes akindofghastlymarriage and prompts

Van Relsing to fret that "this so sweet maid is a

polyandrist." Stoker gives Lucy what she wants

and teaches her a lesson at the same time.

(Signorotti 623)

Thus, Stoker reduces Lucy's status as a lady even more

after tainting her with Dracula's visits by making her a passive,

unconsciously willing receptacle for the bodily fluids ofmany

men, none ofwhom to which she is married. Unfortunately,

after Stoker teaches Lucy a lesson through these suggestive

transfusions, Lucy still dies, only to return as one of the

Undead. She is no longer a woman but a vile "Thing" who

"seemed like a nightmare ofLucy" (Stoker 192, 190). When she

dies and returns as a vampire, Lucy in a sense becomes like a

super, evil fallen woman. The stereotype ofthe broken, fallen

woman is reincamated in Lucy as proud, voluptuous, and strong,

with a ravenous appetite for drinking blood, the ultimate symbol

for sex in Stoker's vampire tale.

u~n[

14

At thispointin the novel, the dichotomizeddevil and angel

imagerybecomes especially important. When Lucyturns into an

Undead, Van ReIsingenlists the aid ofDr. Seward, QuincyMorris,

and Arthur to kill her by "cut[ting] offher head ... fill ring] her

mouthwith garlic ... anddriv[ing] astakethroughherheart" (179).

In his inspirational speech to the men, Van ReIsing states, "Instead

ofworking wickedness bynight and growing more debased in the

assimilation ofit byday, [Lucy] shall take herplace with the other

Angels," implying Lucy will return to her pure state in death and

be an Angel once more forheretemallife (191). Implying that

Lucy is not an angel when she is an Undead, we can deduce

logically that we are therefore meant to see Lucy as the polar

opposite ofan angel-in this case, adevil. The impressiongleaned

from Van ReIsing's speech supports this dichotomous wayofseeing

Lucy, especially after the act ofkilling her is complete, when Van

Relsing confirms Lucy's devil status by saying, "... she is not a

grinning devil now-not any more a foul Thing for all eternity"

(193).

IS

Escobar states that ''because the Victorians rested their

senseofdecencY, morality, and familial cohesionontheveryhuman

shoulders ofan etherealizedwomanhood, ifawoman fell, she feU

utterly" (133). In this same tradition, Lucy falls, and she falls utterly.

When we are fIrst introduced to her in the novel, Lucy displays a

delightful sense ofinnocence and purity in her letter to Mina, in

which her girlish giddiness overbeing in lovewithArthur ("1 love

him; I love him; I love him!") penneates the tone (Stoker 57). She

seemingly travels down a continuum in her classification as a

woman, careening from one extreme to the other. She plummets

from the height ofher lady's pedestal into the depths offallen

woman status. Stoker even drives Lucy past the point ofa fallen

womanbytumingher into avile, evil "Thing" (193).

While Lucy's story exemplifIes Stoker's dichotomous

labeling of Lucy-she is initially like a pure angel, only to

fall and tum into an Undead devil, only to be revived in eternal

life as an angel-Stoker moves away from dichotomous

characterization somewhat with Mina, who ultimately does not

fall as precipitouslyas Lucy. The continuum supports an infinite j I,I

16 17

number ofclassifications between the two dichotomous extremes,

making the continuum an excellent way to redefine ourconcept of

the fallen woman. As if he was simply required to provide a

traditional, clearly defined case ofthe fallen woman with Lucy,

Stokerexperiments withthis continuum inMina's character, driving

her back and forth along the pure-to-fallen woman continuum.

Perhaps due to the radical groundwork of "GoblinMarket," Mina

is not forced to fall like Lucy. The conclusion of"Goblin Market"

illuminates Stoker's trial with Mina, who identifies greatly with

Laura's sister, Lizzie. When Laura, "dwindling I Seemedknocking

at Death's door," Lizzie detenninedly goes looking for the goblins:

... Lizzie weighed no more

Better and worse;

But put a silver penny in her purse,

Kissed Laura, crossed the heath with clumps

of furze

At twilight, halted by the brook:

And for the first time in her life

Began to listen and look. (322 - 328)

When the goblins "spied her peeping," they descend en

masse upon her, proceeding to hug, kiss, squeeze, and caress her

(330 - 331,348 - 350). LikeDracula, whosemany guises include

taking the form ofabat orwolf, the goblins approach Lizzie "cat­

like and rat-like, I Ratel- and wombat-like, I Snail-paced in a

huny, I Parrot-voiced andwhistler ..." (340 - 343). Lizzie attempts

to purchase fruit from the goblinsby tossing them her penny, but

they insist upon her taking aseat and eatingwith them, which she

refuses to do, remembering Jeanie. When the goblins snub her,

Lizzie demands herpennyback, and the goblins get angry, "gnmting

and snarling" and" ...cal1[ing] herproud,/Cross-gained, unciviL .."

(393 - 395). But Lizzie stands her ground, ''white and golden,"

thinking to herselfthat though "one may lead a horse to water, I

Twenty cannot make him drink" (408,422 - 425).

Tho' the goblins cuffed and caught her,

Coaxed and fought her,

Bullied and besought her,

Scratched her, pinched her black as ink,

Kicked and knocked her,

16 17

number ofclassifications between the two dichotomous extremes,

making the continuum an excellent way to redefine ourconcept of

the fallen woman. As if he was simply required to provide a

traditional, clearly defined case ofthe fallen woman with Lucy,

Stokerexperiments withthis continuum inMina's character, driving

her back and forth along the pure-to-fallen woman continuum.

Perhaps due to the radical groundwork of "GoblinMarket," Mina

is not forced to fall like Lucy. The conclusion of"Goblin Market"

illuminates Stoker's trial with Mina, who identifies greatly with

Laura's sister, Lizzie. When Laura, "dwindling I Seemedknocking

at Death's door," Lizzie detenninedly goes looking for the goblins:

... Lizzie weighed no more

Better and worse;

But put a silver penny in her purse,

Kissed Laura, crossed the heath with clumps

of furze

At twilight, halted by the brook:

And for the first time in her life

Began to listen and look. (322 - 328)

When the goblins "spied her peeping," they descend en

masse upon her, proceeding to hug, kiss, squeeze, and caress her

(330 - 331,348 - 350). LikeDracula, whosemany guises include

taking the form ofabat orwolf, the goblins approach Lizzie "cat­

like and rat-like, I Ratel- and wombat-like, I Snail-paced in a

huny, I Parrot-voiced andwhistler ..." (340 - 343). Lizzie attempts

to purchase fruit from the goblinsby tossing them her penny, but

they insist upon her taking aseat and eating with them, which she

refuses to do, remembering Jeanie. When the goblins snub her,

Lizzie demands herpennyback, and the goblins get angry, "gnmting

and snarling" and" ...cal1[ing] herproud,/Cross-gained, unciviL .."

(393 - 395). But Lizzie stands her ground, ''white and golden,"

thinking to herselfthat though "one may lead a horse to water, I

Twenty cannot make him drink" (408,422 - 425).

Tho' the goblins cuffed and caught her,

Coaxed and fought her,

Bullied and besought her,

Scratched her, pinched her black as ink,

Kicked and knocked her,

18 191 Mauled and mocked her,

Lizzie uttered not a word;

Would not open lip from lip

Lest they should cram a mouthful in:

But laughed in heart to feel the drip

Ofjuice that syrupped all her face,

And lodged in dimples of her chin,

And streaked her neck which quaked like curd.

(424 - 436)

Thus, what has ensued-the goblins pelting Lizzie with fruit

and abusing her- is essentially a gang rape, comparable with

the more subdued gang rape ofLucy to which Signorotti referred.

What follows whenLizzie returns home is blatantlysexual.

Lizzie commands Laurato "hug[her], kiss [her], suck [her] juices,"

and Laura obeys, "kiss[ing] and kiss[ing] [Lizzie] with ahungry

mouth" (468,492). Just as fresh blood invigorates Lucy, Laura

responds to licking the fruit juices offher sister in unabashedly

orgasmic fashion: she ''writh[ed] as one possessed" and "beat her

breast;" she was "like a caged thing freed"(496). She felt "swift

I I

\

fire spread thro' her veins"(499), and"she fell at last; / Pleasure

past and anguish past ... "(496,499,505,507,521). In the

\ aftermath ofthis two-person bacchanalian-esque orgy, Laura

wonders, "Is it death or is it life?" and answers herself, "Life out

ofdeath" (523 ­ 524). Thus, Laura finds life out ofdeath in the

same way Lucy finds eternal life as an angel out ofher death as a

devil. Even though Lucy is restored to her ''unequalled sweetness

and purity" in death and Laura is restored to her innocence while

still alive, bothwomen plunge from the pinnacleofidealVictorian

woman status to full-fledged fallen woman status, onlyto return to

their pure states once again.

Although Lucy could not be saved, Laura owes her

salvation solely to her sister, Lizzie, to whom we can compare

Mina on multiple levels. Lizzie is commonly seen as a Christ­

like figure. When asking Laura to feast on her, Lizzie uses

language similar to Jesus' words at the Last Supper (Rosetti

lines 468 ­ 473).

Sacrificingher own innocence to save her sister's, Lizzie

provides a good context for examining Mina, who repeatedly

18 191 Mauled and mocked her,

Lizzie uttered not a word;

Would not open lip from lip

Lest they should cram a mouthful in:

But laughed in heart to feel the drip

Ofjuice that syrupped all her face,

And lodged in dimples of her chin,

And streaked her neck which quaked like curd.

(424 - 436)

Thus, what has ensued-the goblins pelting Lizzie with fruit

and abusing her- is essentially a gang rape, comparable with

the more subdued gang rape ofLucy to which Signorotti referred.

What follows whenLizzie returns home is blatantlysexual.

Lizzie commands Laurato "hug[her], kiss [her], suck [her] juices,"

and Laura obeys, "kiss[ing] and kiss[ing] [Lizzie] with ahungry

mouth" (468,492). Just as fresh blood invigorates Lucy, Laura

responds to licking the fruit juices offher sister in unabashedly

orgasmic fashion: she ''writh[ed] as one possessed" and "beat her

breast;" she was "like a caged thing freed"(496). She felt "swift

I I

\

fire spread thro' her veins"(499), and"she fell at last; / Pleasure

past and anguish past ... "(496,499,505,507,521). In the

\ aftermath ofthis two-person bacchanalian-esque orgy, Laura

wonders, "Is it death or is it life?" and answers herself, "Life out

ofdeath" (523 ­ 524). Thus, Laura finds life out ofdeath in the

same way Lucy finds eternal life as an angel out ofher death as a

devil. Even though Lucy is restored to her ''unequalled sweetness

and purity" in death and Laura is restored to her innocence while

still alive, bothwomen plunge from the pinnacleofidealVictorian

woman status to full-fledged fallen woman status, onlyto return to

their pure states once again.

Although Lucy could not be saved, Laura owes her

salvation solely to her sister, Lizzie, to whom we can compare

Mina on multiple levels. Lizzie is commonly seen as a Christ­

like figure. When asking Laura to feast on her, Lizzie uses

language similar to Jesus' words at the Last Supper (Rosetti

lines 468 ­ 473).

Sacrificingher own innocence to save her sister's, Lizzie

provides a good context for examining Mina, who repeatedly

20 21

..

makes a variety ofpersonal sacrifices in attempts to save and

redeem the lives ofthose around her-fromher husband to Dracula

lrimself.

Mina uses her womanly power of pity to

intercede with men even for the worst of

criminals, insisting that even [Dracula] can be

redeemed. Her idea of dying to one's worse

self so that the better self may live is the

traditional Christian idea of dying to the flesh

that thespiritrnaylive: vampirism is onlyan extreme

version of the evil of the body against which

Christians have been told to fight for almost two

thousand years. And Mina is the ideal Christian

woman, recalling men to an ideal ofcharity and

lovethroughherholyinfluence. (Weissman 74)

Averitable savior, Mina's numerous sacrifices varygreatly in their

degree ofpersonal submission.

In her very first appearance in the novel, when Mina

writes a letter to Lucy, one ofthe first things she tells Lucy is

that she "hasbeen working veryhard lately,because [she] want[s]

to keep up with Jonathan's studies, and [she] has been practicing

shorthand very assiduously" (Stoker 55). Always careful to put

her talents in the service ofher husband, Mina is clearly not a

New Woman, whom she obligatorilydisparages:

Someofthe 'NewWomen' writers will some day

start an idea that men and women should be

allowedto see each other asleepbeforeproposing

or accepting. But I suppose the New Woman

won't condescend in the future to accept; she will

do the proposingherself. And anicejob she will

make ofit, too! There's some consolation in that.

(87)

After Lucy's death, Minaplaces her talents wholeheartedly in the

service ofmen-Van ReIsing, Dr. Seward,Arthur, QuincyMorris,

and Jonathan-to aid in Dracula's capture. She painstakingly

copies everyone's journals so that each person has a copy of

everyone else's for their records, and she acts as ahuman beacon

ofsorts, transmitting telepathic information whilehypnotized .

20 21

..

makes a variety ofpersonal sacrifices in attempts to save and

redeem the lives ofthose around her-fromher husband to Dracula

lrimself.

Mina uses her womanly power of pity to

intercede with men even for the worst of

criminals, insisting that even [Dracula] can be

redeemed. Her idea of dying to one's worse

self so that the better self may live is the

traditional Christian idea of dying to the flesh

that thespiritrnaylive: vampirism is onlyan extreme

version of the evil of the body against which

Christians have been told to fight for almost two

thousand years. And Mina is the ideal Christian

woman, recalling men to an ideal ofcharity and

lovethroughherholyinfluence. (Weissman 74)

Averitable savior, Mina's numerous sacrifices varygreatly in their

degree ofpersonal submission.

In her very first appearance in the novel, when Mina

writes a letter to Lucy, one ofthe first things she tells Lucy is

that she "hasbeen working veryhard lately,because [she] want[s]

to keep up with Jonathan's studies, and [she] has been practicing

shorthand very assiduously" (Stoker 55). Always careful to put

her talents in the service ofher husband, Mina is clearly not a

New Woman, whom she obligatorilydisparages:

Someofthe 'NewWomen' writers will some day

start an idea that men and women should be

allowedto see each other asleepbeforeproposing

or accepting. But I suppose the New Woman

won't condescend in the future to accept; she will

do the proposingherself. And anicejob she will

make ofit, too! There's some consolation in that.

(87)

After Lucy's death, Minaplaces her talents wholeheartedly in the

service ofmen-Van ReIsing, Dr. Seward,Arthur, QuincyMorris,

and Jonathan-to aid in Dracula's capture. She painstakingly

copies everyone's journals so that each person has a copy of

everyone else's for their records, and she acts as ahuman beacon

ofsorts, transmitting telepathic information whilehypnotized .

'~:.-.' 23~". "'.~'.. .~,. l' ~:--",__ /_,.,", :." .

22

Even thuugh she proves her strength andshows her ability

to work hard alongside the men, Mina is nevertheless delegated

to female roles, such as being the secretary at the group's first

formal meeting about destroying Dracula. Stoker goes to great

lengths to establish Mina fmnly ontop ofthe proverbial pedestal.

The other men sing her praises. Van Helsing says, "She has man's

brain-abrain th;1t aman should have were he much gifted-and

a woman's heart" while Jonathan writes, "I never saw Mina so

absolutely strong and well" (206, 218). But just so that we do not ~1

get the wrong idea about her unique womanly capabilities, the I'

men qualify statements such as these, constantlyputting her in her

place. After Van Helsingpraises her as a woman whom ''the good

God fashioned. " for a purpose... After tonight she must not

have to do with this so terribIe affair. It is not good that she run a

risk so great" (206). Immediately after he says he has never seen

Mina look so strong, Harker writes, "I am so glad she consented

to hold back and let us men do the work" (218). Dr. Seward

echoes these sentiments, stating, "Mrs. Harker is better out ofit.

Things are quite bad enough to us, all men ofthe world, and who

have beenin many tight places inour time; but it is no place for a

woman ..." (225).

Though we now consider these statements

chauvinistic, they serve to enfotee Mina's status as a goo~

pure woman who knows her placo and even revels in

occupyingthat place. Heronlyobjections to tbcirtreatment

ofher

remain insignificantbecaUSebyaresodrildisblypetulant aswhen

she states after ameetingwiththemen."Manlike, theyhave told

me to go to bed and sleep; as ifa woman can sleep when those

she loves are indanger! I shall lie down andpretend to sleep, lest

Jonathan have added anxiety about me whenhe returns" (214).

Even in her complaints Mina acquiesces to gender-based

inferiority.

Unlike Lucy, who voiced her desire to marry three men,

Mina never does anything to incur punishment or her loss of

figurative innocence. Indeed, her decision to drinkDracula's blood

is noble because she drinks specifically to keep Dracula from

harmingherhusbandbut is taintedbyherownunconcious desires.

She remembers Dracula's threat, "Silence! Ifyou make a soundI

24 25

r-

shall take [the sleeping Jonathan] and dash his brains out before

your very eyes" (251). Mina "[was] appalled and was too

bewildered to do or say anything" (251). When he "placed his

reeking lips upon [her] throat," Mina "strangely enough did not

want to hinderhim" (251). Becausehersexualdesire is unconcious,

she absolves herselfofanyblame for herresponseby "suppos[ing]

it is apart ofthe horrible curse ... when his touch is on his victim"

(251). When Mina drinks Dracula's blood, she retains much of

her innocence because we know she drinks under duress:

When the blood began to spurt out [ofthe vein

in his breast], he took my hands in one of his,

holding them tight, and with the other seized

my neck and pressed my mouth to the wound,

so that I must either suffocate or swallow some

of the-Dh my God! my God! what have I

done? (252)

The truth is that Mina has done nothing to deserve such a

fate, which is why Stoker ultimately redeems her.

Mina is worthy, while fickle Lucy was a threat to the

Victorian expectations. As Lucy grows weaker and approaches

death, she is entirely useless to everyone 8J'O~ her. Although

unconscious, she literallydrains lifeoutofD1.Seward. Quincy

Morris, and Arthur when she takes tbeirb100cL On the other

hand, as Mirragrows increasinglyWClk,_ stiJl·JI]akessignificant

contributions to the efforts ofthose aroundher in order to stop

Dracula. She willingly undergoes hypnosis in order to track

Dracula telepathically. She travels with the men to Dracula's

country in order to help defeat him. She forces themen to promise

to kill her--her ultimate sacrifice--should she tmn into avampire.

Thus, whileLucywas worthy ofredemption onlyindeath, Mina's

sacrifices outweigh the corruption ofDracula's bite and blood,

earning her redemption in life.

CarrolFrymakes a compelling argument about Dracula,

noting thatStoker's use of"disguisedconventional characters"(35)

essentially defines the novel and its latent sexuality.

The most apparent ofthese characters is the "pure

woman," the staple heroine ofpopular fiction it'om

24 25

r-

shall take [the sleeping Jonathan] and dash his brains out before

your very eyes" (251). Mina "[was] appalled and was too

bewildered to do or say anything" (251). When he "placed his

reeking lips upon [her] throat," Mina "strangely enough did not

want to hinderhim" (251). Becausehersexualdesire is unconcious,

she absolves herselfofanyblame for herresponseby "suppos[ing]

it is apart ofthe horrible curse ... when his touch is on his victim"

(251). When Mina drinks Dracula's blood, she retains much of

her innocence because we know she drinks under duress:

When the blood began to spurt out [ofthe vein

in his breast], he took my hands in one of his,

holding them tight, and with the other seized

my neck and pressed my mouth to the wound,

so that I must either suffocate or swallow some

of the-Dh my God! my God! what have I

done? (252)

The truth is that Mina has done nothing to deserve such a

fate, which is why Stoker ultimately redeems her.

Mina is worthy, while fickle Lucy was a threat to the

Victorian expectations. As Lucy grows weaker and approaches

death, she is entirely useless to everyone 8J'O~ her. Although

unconscious, she literallydrains lifeoutofD1.Seward. Quincy

Morris, and Arthur when she takes tbeirb100cL On the other

hand, as Mirragrows increasinglyWClk,_ stiJl·JI]akessignificant

contributions to the efforts ofthose aroundher in order to stop

Dracula. She willingly undergoes hypnosis in order to track

Dracula telepathically. She travels with the men to Dracula's

country in order to help defeat him. She forces themen to promise

to kill her--her ultimate sacrifice--should she tmn into avampire.

Thus, whileLucywas worthy ofredemption onlyindeath, Mina's

sacrifices outweigh the corruption ofDracula's bite and blood,

earning her redemption in life.

CarrolFrymakes a compelling argument about Dracula,

noting thatStoker's use of"disguisedconventional characters"(35)

essentially defines the novel and its latent sexuality.

The most apparent ofthese characters is the "pure

woman," the staple heroine ofpopular fiction it'om

'\5. .·s. ttl; )... , Q,

1 2726

women when they occupy different parts ofthe pure-to-fallen Richardson to Hardy. In dozens ofnovels ofthe

eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, this pure

woman is pursued by a "rake," a seducer who

has designs on hervirtue. The melodramaisbased

on the reader's suspense regarding whether or

not he will succeed. Those women who lose their

virtue become"fallenwomen," outcasts doomed

to death or secluded repentance. In Dracula,

there are two "pure women," Lucy Westenra and

Mina Harker, the former ofwhom actually does

"fall." The role ofthe ''rake'' is played by Count

Dracula, and vampirism becomes surrogate sexual

intercourse. The women who receive the

vampire's bite become "fallen women." (35)

Note that Fryclassifies only Lucy as a fallen woman but

defines fallen women as those bitten byDracula .Because Dracula

bites Mina as well as Lucy, by Fry's definition, Mina should also

be a fallen woman. Fry fails to distinguish between the status of

Lucy and Mina, equivalently classifying both ofthem as fallen

woman continuum. Lucyfalls utterly; Mina falls onlypartially and

is redeemed. We have to assume that, had Mina died and

transforrnedinto anUndead, she too wouldhave fiillen completely

and suffered Lucy's fate. Christopher Bentleynotes:

Though the vampire's attack symbolizes sexual

intercourse, ormoreprecisely, in the view ofthe

presumedchastityofthe two female victims, loss

ofvirginity, there is one important difference.

Unlike actual defloration, the process is reversible,

for the victim can be redeemed by the death of

her seducer, thevampire; theburnmark onMina's

forehead, caused by the touch ofthe Host when

she was "unclean," disappears as soon as

Dracula is destroyed. The physical and

spiritual degradation incurred by the victim of

a vampire need not be permanent ... (31)

As Fry asserts, in Dracula, death, not the bite itself, is a better

indicator ofwhich women fall. Dracula bites both Lucy and

'\5. .·s. ttl; )... , Q,

1 2726

women when they occupy different parts ofthe pure-to-fallen Richardson to Hardy. In dozens ofnovels ofthe

eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, this pure

woman is pursued by a "rake," a seducer who

has designs on hervirtue. The melodramaisbased

on the reader's suspense regarding whether or

not he will succeed. Those women who lose their

virtue become"fallenwomen," outcasts doomed

to death or secluded repentance. In Dracula,

there are two "pure women," Lucy Westenra and

Mina Harker, the former ofwhom actually does

"fall." The role ofthe ''rake'' is played by Count

Dracula, and vampirism becomes surrogate sexual

intercourse. The women who receive the

vampire's bite become "fallen women." (35)

Note that Fryclassifies only Lucy as a fallen woman but

defines fallen women as those bitten byDracula .Because Dracula

bites Mina as well as Lucy, by Fry's definition, Mina should also

be a fallen woman. Fry fails to distinguish between the status of

Lucy and Mina, equivalently classifying both ofthem as fallen

woman continuum. Lucyfalls utterly; Mina falls onlypartially and

is redeemed. We have to assume that, had Mina died and

transforrnedinto anUndead, she too wouldhave fiillen completely

and suffered Lucy's fate. Christopher Bentleynotes:

Though the vampire's attack symbolizes sexual

intercourse, ormoreprecisely, in the view ofthe

presumedchastityofthe two female victims, loss

ofvirginity, there is one important difference.

Unlike actual defloration, the process is reversible,

for the victim can be redeemed by the death of

her seducer, thevampire; theburnmark onMina's

forehead, caused by the touch ofthe Host when

she was "unclean," disappears as soon as

Dracula is destroyed. The physical and

spiritual degradation incurred by the victim of

a vampire need not be permanent ... (31)

As Fry asserts, in Dracula, death, not the bite itself, is a better

indicator ofwhich women fall. Dracula bites both Lucy and

28 29

Mina: the death ofLucy when she is a vampire restores her to

posthumous purity; the death ofDracula restores Mina to purity

intife.

In their conclusions, "Goblin Market" and Dracula are

extremely similar. Mina, Laura, and Lizzie all have children and

have been able to move on with their lives because of their

redemptions. The past efforts made to redeem these women are

construed as valiant and well worth the sacrifices made to obtain

their renewed status as pure women. Not only are they

rehabilitated but they also survive their respective trials to return

to their normal lives with a heightened sense ofmoral awareness.

Carol Senfpoints out, "Stoker's heroines emphasize that it is

important to know the existenceofevil so that theycan consciously

choose virtue" (48). Mina, like Laura and Lizzie, has experienced

evil and emerged not only unscathed but much improved. Laura

proceeds to tell her own and Lizzie's children "how her sister

stood / In deadlyperil to do her good, /Andwin the fiery antidote."

Van Helsing also looks to future generations when he swears that

Mina and Jonathan's son ''will some day know what a brave and

gallantwoman his mother is" (Rosetti 130-131, lines 557 -559;

Stoker 327).

All three women traveled along the pure-to-fallen woman

continuum; some, like Lucy, made numerous stops along the way

and others, like Lucy, fell instantly. What is important for us to

take from their stories is how different they are from one another.

In the same way that critics argue whether Dracula is evil or not,

we cannot simplydefine Lucy as a devil, Mina as an angel, Laura

as a sinner, Lizzie as a saint. Such opposing definitions restrict

our analysis of these characters, resulting in a diminished

understanding ofhow the concept ofthe fallen woman fits into

Victorian literature.

"Goblin Market," published thirty-five years before

Dracula, departed thoroughly from the established Victorian

literature:

The permission that "GoblinMarket" grants fallen

women to return from depravity to chastity, ifnot

outright purity, was indeed radical. Christina

Rossetti rejects her society's defmition offemale

28 29

Mina: the death ofLucy when she is a vampire restores her to

posthumous purity; the death ofDracula restores Mina to purity

intife.

In their conclusions, "Goblin Market" and Dracula are

extremely similar. Mina, Laura, and Lizzie all have children and

have been able to move on with their lives because of their

redemptions. The past efforts made to redeem these women are

construed as valiant and well worth the sacrifices made to obtain

their renewed status as pure women. Not only are they

rehabilitated but they also survive their respective trials to return

to their normal lives with a heightened sense ofmoral awareness.

Carol Senfpoints out, "Stoker's heroines emphasize that it is

important to know the existenceofevil so that theycan consciously

choose virtue" (48). Mina, like Laura and Lizzie, has experienced

evil and emerged not only unscathed but much improved. Laura

proceeds to tell her own and Lizzie's children "how her sister

stood / In deadlyperil to do her good, /Andwin the fiery antidote."

Van Helsing also looks to future generations when he swears that

Mina and Jonathan's son ''will some day know what a brave and

gallantwoman his mother is" (Rosetti 130-131, lines 557 -559;

Stoker 327).

All three women traveled along the pure-to-fallen woman

continuum; some, like Lucy, made numerous stops along the way

and others, like Lucy, fell instantly. What is important for us to

take from their stories is how different they are from one another.

In the same way that critics argue whether Dracula is evil or not,

we cannot simplydefine Lucy as a devil, Mina as an angel, Laura

as a sinner, Lizzie as a saint. Such opposing definitions restrict

our analysis of these characters, resulting in a diminished

understanding ofhow the concept ofthe fallen woman fits into

Victorian literature.

"Goblin Market," published thirty-five years before

Dracula, departed thoroughly from the established Victorian

literature:

The permission that "GoblinMarket" grants fallen

women to return from depravity to chastity, ifnot

outright purity, was indeed radical. Christina

Rossetti rejects her society's defmition offemale

30

virtue and denOllllces itsjustifications for deserting

fallen women ... Neitheridealizingnor denigrating

her sex, Christina Rossetti depicts a woman who

learns to put her virtue in action and a woman

who regains the virtue she has lost. Each woman

is capable, compelling, insightful, and ofgood

character not because she claims some vague

connection to angelic, perfect, or otherwise

incorruptible womanhood but because she has

persisted in her own imperfections to do right

and see it prevail. (Escobar 133, 148)

By contrast, Stoker redeems Mina, who is is

incredibly idealized, claiming many connections to angelic

womanhood. Gail Griffin writes, "Mina presents herself as

an excellent example of 'advanced' Victorian womanhood:

accomplished, but only so that she can be a 'useful wife;'

disparaging of the New Woman and her tampering with sex

roles; obsessed with her 'duty' as a wife" (145). Stoker also

~J#'" 31

denigrates his women, especiallybyhaving those such as Mina

embrace thechauvinistic attitudeswhichmendisplay toward her.

Despite thesedifIerences,Dracu1a follows in the footsteps

of"GoblinMarket. Wemustbe cautious,however, about implying

that anysimilarities inDracula occurreddirectlybecauseof"Goblin

Market." Parallels between the two tales are striking, Dracula

obviouslywas influenced heavilyby earliervampire folklore and

literature, such as Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla. Very likely

"Goblin Market" was also influenced by such earlier fiction.

Rossetti's grandfatherwas JohnPolidori, authorof'TheVampyre"

and fourth member ofthe writing group (along with the Shelleys

and Byron) that produced Frankenstein. Stoker mayor may

not have been aware of Rossetti's familial connection to

Polidori, butRossetti's poemwas extremelypopular so we assume

Stokerwould have read "Goblin Market" at somepoint. To what

degree he was influenced by the poem remains unknown. Yet

perhaps because ofthe important groundwork laid byRossetti in

her decision to rehabilitate a fallen woman in one ofher poems,

authors such as Stoker dared to redeem some oftheir women as

30

virtue and denOllllces itsjustifications for deserting

fallen women ... Neitheridealizingnor denigrating

her sex, Christina Rossetti depicts a woman who

learns to put her virtue in action and a woman

who regains the virtue she has lost. Each woman

is capable, compelling, insightful, and ofgood

character not because she claims some vague

connection to angelic, perfect, or otherwise

incorruptible womanhood but because she has

persisted in her own imperfections to do right

and see it prevail. (Escobar 133, 148)

By contrast, Stoker redeems Mina, who is is

incredibly idealized, claiming many connections to angelic

womanhood. Gail Griffin writes, "Mina presents herself as

an excellent example of 'advanced' Victorian womanhood:

accomplished, but only so that she can be a 'useful wife;'

disparaging of the New Woman and her tampering with sex

roles; obsessed with her 'duty' as a wife" (145). Stoker also

~J#'" 31

denigrates his women, especiallybyhaving those such as Mina

embrace thechauvinistic attitudeswhichmendisplay toward her.

Despite thesedifIerences,Dracu1a follows in the footsteps

of"GoblinMarket. Wemustbe cautious,however, about implying

that anysimilarities inDracula occurreddirectlybecauseof"Goblin

Market." Parallels between the two tales are striking, Dracula

obviouslywas influenced heavilyby earliervampire folklore and

literature, such as Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla. Very likely

"Goblin Market" was also influenced by such earlier fiction.

Rossetti's grandfatherwas JohnPolidori, authorof'TheVampyre"

and fourth member ofthe writing group (along with the Shelleys

and Byron) that produced Frankenstein. Stoker mayor may

not have been aware of Rossetti's familial connection to

Polidori, butRossetti's poemwas extremelypopular so we assume

Stokerwould have read "Goblin Market" at somepoint. To what

degree he was influenced by the poem remains unknown. Yet

perhaps because ofthe important groundwork laid byRossetti in

her decision to rehabilitate a fallen woman in one ofher poems,

authors such as Stoker dared to redeem some oftheir women as

32

well, going out on a limb to save their heroines from the fates of

those such as the Lady ofShalott and Tess.

33

Works Cited

Bentley, Christopher. "The Monster in the Bedroom." Dra­

cula: The Vampire and the Critics. Ed. Margaret Car­

ter. AnnArbor: UMI Research Press, 1988.

Escobar, Kirsten E. "Female Saint, Female Prodigal: Chris­

tina Rossetti's 'Goblin Market.'" Religion and the

Arts. 5:1 (2001): 129-154.

Fry, Carrol L. "Fictional Conventions and Sexuality in Dra­

cula."Dracula: The Vampire and the Critics. Ed. Mar­

garet L. Carter. AnnArbor: UMI Research Press,

1988.

Griffin, Gail B. " 'Your Girls That You all LoveAreMine:' Dra­

cula and the Victorian Male Sexual Imagination." Dra­

cula: The Vampire and the Critics. Ed. Margaret L.

Carter. Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1988.

Lee, Elizabeth. "VictorianTheories ofSex and Sexuality." The

Victorian Web. 26 March 2004. < http:victorianweb.

.orglgender/sextheory.html>.

Rosetti, Christina. "Goblin Market." Victorian Women Poets:

32

well, going out on a limb to save their heroines from the fates of

those such as the Lady ofShalott and Tess.

33

Works Cited

Bentley, Christopher. "The Monster in the Bedroom." Dra­

cula: The Vampire and the Critics. Ed. Margaret Car­

ter. AnnArbor: UMI Research Press, 1988.

Escobar, Kirsten E. "Female Saint, Female Prodigal: Chris­

tina Rossetti's 'Goblin Market.'" Religion and the

Arts. 5:1 (2001): 129-154.

Fry, Carrol L. "Fictional Conventions and Sexuality in Dra­

cula."Dracula: The Vampire and the Critics. Ed. Mar­

garet L. Carter. AnnArbor: UMI Research Press,

1988.

Griffin, Gail B. " 'Your Girls That You all LoveAreMine:' Dra­

cula and the Victorian Male Sexual Imagination." Dra­

cula: The Vampire and the Critics. Ed. Margaret L.

Carter. Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1988.

Lee, Elizabeth. "VictorianTheories ofSex and Sexuality." The

Victorian Web. 26 March 2004. < http:victorianweb.

.orglgender/sextheory.html>.

Rosetti, Christina. "Goblin Market." Victorian Women Poets:

34

A New Annotated Anthology. Ed. Virginia Blain. Lon­

don: Pearson Education, 2001. 114-131.

Senf, CarolA. "Dracula: Stoker's Response to the New Wo­

man." Victorian Studies Autumn (1982): 33-49.

Signorotti, Elizabeth. "Repossessingthe Body: Transgressive

Desire in CarmiIla and Dracula."Criticism Fall 1996,

607-634.

Stoker, Bram. Dracula: Norton CriticalEdition. Ed. Nina

The Underground Man and Meursault: Alienating Consequences of Self-Authentication

EmilyRainville Messiah College

Grantham, Pennsylvania

Auerbach. New York: W. W. Norton&Company, 1997. Although Fyodor Dostoevskywrote a century earlier than

the modem existentialist movement and Albert Camus rejected

the label ofexistentialist (Davison 43), manyscholars have strongly

i associated both authors with this philosophy. Even so, the

complexity ofexistentialismmakes it difficult to articulate aconcrete

definition orto categoricallyplace authors withinoroutside ofthe

movement. Patrick Lyall Bourgeois believes that "it is preferable

to follow Paul Ricoeur's insistence in speaking, not of

existentialism, but ofexistentialisms in the plural, indicating a lack

,

ofunity ofdoctrine among various figures usually considered to

If be existentialists" (29-30). Despite the extensive differences j

34

A New Annotated Anthology. Ed. Virginia Blain. Lon­

don: Pearson Education, 2001. 114-131.

Senf, CarolA. "Dracula: Stoker's Response to the New Wo­

man." Victorian Studies Autumn (1982): 33-49.

Signorotti, Elizabeth. "Repossessingthe Body: Transgressive

Desire in CarmiIla and Dracula."Criticism Fall 1996,

607-634.

Stoker, Bram. Dracula: Norton CriticalEdition. Ed. Nina

The Underground Man and Meursault: Alienating Consequences of Self-Authentication

EmilyRainville Messiah College

Grantham, Pennsylvania

Auerbach. New York: W. W. Norton&Company, 1997. Although Fyodor Dostoevskywrote a century earlier than

the modem existentialist movement and Albert Camus rejected

the label ofexistentialist (Davison 43), manyscholars have strongly

i associated both authors with this philosophy. Even so, the

complexity ofexistentialismmakes it difficult to articulate aconcrete

definition orto categoricallyplace authors withinoroutside ofthe

movement. Patrick Lyall Bourgeois believes that "it is preferable

to follow Paul Ricoeur's insistence in speaking, not of

existentialism, but ofexistentialisms in the plural, indicating a lack

,

ofunity ofdoctrine among various figures usually considered to

If be existentialists" (29-30). Despite the extensive differences j

I 36

present in those texts traditionallyconsidered existentialist innature,

Maurice Friedman speaks for many scholars in recognizing their

important, albeit general, similarities. Significantly, he includes

among their common elements the themeofself-authentication-­

that "distinction between 'authentic' and 'inauthentic' existence"

(4}-which many scholars consider theheartofexistential thought.

Since Dostoevsky's Notesfrom Underground and Camus's The

Stranger are two texts profoundly concerned with authentic

existence, it is appropriate to consider the authors as significant

contributors to existentialist thought.

In nwnerous ways the Underground Man and Meursault,

the texts' respective main characters, are infinitely complex and

often drastically different in their thoughts and actions. Their

common concernwiththe authentic selfreveals striking similarities

between the two personae. Both characters perceive a disparity

between society's definitions ofthern and theirown senses ofself

This leads both the Underground Man and Meursault to commit

radical acts in hopes of achieving personal wholeness.

Unfortunately, insteadofcreatingpersonalwholeness, these actions

37

.., serve to create complex divisions including alienation from other

characters, from the reader, and even from the self.

Although both the UndergroundMan and Meursault have

similar goals ofauthenticating their existence, each defines this

objective differently. For the Underground Man, genuine self

means one who has rebelled against the deterministic laws ofnature

to achieve free will. GaryMorson states that "for the underground

man, real temporal process-as opposed to an already made

product that merely takes time to be revealed-is essential to

hwnanness" (197). The Underground Manrefuses the notion that

his actions are a result, not of his own desire, but rather of

deterministic laws ofnature that would reduce him to "nothing

more than a kind ofpiano key or an organ stop" (Dostoevsky

18).

He believes that he can create meaningful existence by

acting contrary to the supposed "law" that hwnans will always

desire that which is advantageous to thern. Detesting the confines

ofthis determinism, he argues that a man may knowingly desire

that which is painful or irrational merely to assert his freedom to

I 36

present in those texts traditionallyconsidered existentialist innature,

Maurice Friedman speaks for many scholars in recognizing their

important, albeit general, similarities. Significantly, he includes

among their common elements the themeofself-authentication-­

that "distinction between 'authentic' and 'inauthentic' existence"

(4}-which many scholars consider theheartofexistential thought.

Since Dostoevsky's Notesfrom Underground and Camus's The

Stranger are two texts profoundly concerned with authentic

existence, it is appropriate to consider the authors as significant

contributors to existentialist thought.

In nwnerous ways the Underground Man and Meursault,

the texts' respective main characters, are infinitely complex and

often drastically different in their thoughts and actions. Their

common concernwiththe authentic selfreveals striking similarities

between the two personae. Both characters perceive a disparity

between society's definitions ofthern and theirown senses ofself

This leads both the Underground Man and Meursault to commit

radical acts in hopes of achieving personal wholeness.

Unfortunately, insteadofcreatingpersonalwholeness, these actions

37

.., serve to create complex divisions including alienation from other

characters, from the reader, and even from the self.

Although both the UndergroundMan and Meursault have

similar goals ofauthenticating their existence, each defines this

objective differently. For the Underground Man, genuine self

means one who has rebelled against the deterministic laws ofnature

to achieve free will. GaryMorson states that "for the underground

man, real temporal process-as opposed to an already made

product that merely takes time to be revealed-is essential to

hwnanness" (197). The Underground Manrefuses the notion that

his actions are a result, not of his own desire, but rather of

deterministic laws ofnature that would reduce him to "nothing

more than a kind ofpiano key or an organ stop" (Dostoevsky

18).

He believes that he can create meaningful existence by

acting contrary to the supposed "law" that hwnans will always

desire that which is advantageous to thern. Detesting the confines

ofthis determinism, he argues that a man may knowingly desire

that which is painful or irrational merely to assert his freedom to

38

do so. Thus, man may make a choice "in order to have the

right to desire something even very stupid and not be bound by

an obligation to desire onlywhat's smart" (Dostoevsky21). The

subsequent pages ofNotes from Underground trace his verbal

andphysical refusalofrational detenninism in an attempt to achieve

authentic self

Although conflicted emotions and behaviorreveal "that in

his heart ofhearts the Underground Man does not know whether

he is a free agent or not" (Jones 59), he chooses to embrace

painful and irrational behavior in a desperate attempt to embody

his definition offree will. Oneofthe most strikingexamples occurs

when a group ofschoolmates plan a farewell dinner for a friend

named Zverkov. The Underground Man asserts his free will by

forcing his way into the affair. The Underground Man explains:

"I'd go on purpose. The more tactless, the more indecent it was

for me to go, the more certain I'd be to do it" (46). At the party

he deeply offends his friends and suffers mental anguish in being

excluded from the group. He knows he will not be able to forget

39

the incident, but he refuses to leave. The Underground Man reveals

his tormented state when he says,

(T)hese [are the] filthiest, most absurd, and

horrendous moments ofmyentire life. Itwas im­

possible to humiliate myselfmore shamelesslyor

more willingly. (55, emphasis added)

Though the Underground Man seems partlymotivated by spite

towards his friends, this passage also reveals a clear desire for

irrational, humiliating behavior: an obvious assertion ofhis free

will

Meursault also asserts a clear desire for authentic

existence, but he does not argue for this identity as overtly as

does the Underground Man. Therefore, his quest may be

interpreted as a less intense struggle than that of the

Underground Man, who attempts to prove authenticity while

questioning his success in this endeavor. Both characters

define authenticity differently. The Underground Man embodies

the authentic selfnot byrailing against determinism but rather

against the social expectations for his behavior. He does not have

-4(

.,J. .::-- J

38

do so. Thus, man may make a choice "in order to have the

right to desire something even very stupid and not be bound by

an obligation to desire onlywhat's smart" (Dostoevsky21). The

subsequent pages ofNotes from Underground trace his verbal

andphysical refusalofrational detenninism in an attempt to achieve

authentic self

Although conflicted emotions and behaviorreveal "that in

his heart ofhearts the Underground Man does not know whether

he is a free agent or not" (Jones 59), he chooses to embrace

painful and irrational behavior in a desperate attempt to embody

his definition offree will. Oneofthe most strikingexamples occurs

when a group ofschoolmates plan a farewell dinner for a friend

named Zverkov. The Underground Man asserts his free will by

forcing his way into the affair. The Underground Man explains:

"I'd go on purpose. The more tactless, the more indecent it was

for me to go, the more certain I'd be to do it" (46). At the party

he deeply offends his friends and suffers mental anguish in being

excluded from the group. He knows he will not be able to forget

39

the incident, but he refuses to leave. The Underground Man reveals

his tormented state when he says,

(T)hese [are the] filthiest, most absurd, and

horrendous moments ofmyentire life. Itwas im­

possible to humiliate myselfmore shamelesslyor

more willingly. (55, emphasis added)

Though the Underground Man seems partlymotivated by spite

towards his friends, this passage also reveals a clear desire for

irrational, humiliating behavior: an obvious assertion ofhis free

will

Meursault also asserts a clear desire for authentic

existence, but he does not argue for this identity as overtly as

does the Underground Man. Therefore, his quest may be

interpreted as a less intense struggle than that of the

Underground Man, who attempts to prove authenticity while

questioning his success in this endeavor. Both characters

define authenticity differently. The Underground Man embodies

the authentic selfnot byrailing against determinism but rather

against the social expectations for his behavior. He does not have

-4(

.,J. .::-- J

40

the emotional responses society expects or desires from him. In

almost every situation, he responds in a way that others would

define as inappropriate. He does not cry at his mother's funeral

(Camus 91); he shows no grief after the ceremony, pursuing

pleasurable and sensual activities the very next day (19-20); he is

not disturbed when he hears his neighborbeatinghis mistress (36);

he shows no remorse after killing an Arab (100).

Meursault's trial evolves into an examination ofhis moral

sensibilities, revealing their inappropriateness according to social

standards. When Meursault's lawyer hears the investigators'

accusations that his client has "shown insensitivity" the day ofhis

mother's funeral (Camus 64), he tries to make the case that

Meursault was unable to express his emotions. Meursault,

however, refuses to admit to emotions he never felt: "He [my

lawyer] asked me ifhe could saythat that day I had held back my

natural feelings. I said, 'No, because it's not true'" (Camus 65).

Refusing to defend those feelings which society demands ofhirn,

Meursault affirmshis authentic self. He will notbetray his true self

to impress those observinghim andrequiring that he fit their social

41

mold. "Meursault refuses to make an abstraction ofhimself' by

"becom[ing] a great performer offeelings" (Elbrecht 65).

Both the Underground Man's and Meursault's quests for

self-authenticationbyrejectingsociety's confines ultimately alienate

them from others. Maurice Friedman alludes to Kierkegaard's

distinction between "the single one" and "the crowd" (10) in

identifying typical characteristics ofexistentialist characters as

including"personal authentication ofexistence, and with it, when

necessary that aloneness that enables one to stand as a genuine

person, or 'Single One,' in the face of the crowd" (10). Both

Meursault and the Underground Man experience this aloneness-

this distance from society-as a consequence ofpursuing self-

authentication.

The titles of the two works alert the reader to the

prominence of this type of alienation in the characters'

experiences. Camus entitled his novel L 'Etranger, a very

difficult term to translate accurately into English. Showalter

refers to the definition of"etranger" in the established French

dictionary, the Petit Robert: "Person whose nationality is not that

~

tJ~ ~

~ J

40

the emotional responses society expects or desires from him. In

almost every situation, he responds in a way that others would

define as inappropriate. He does not cry at his mother's funeral

(Camus 91); he shows no grief after the ceremony, pursuing

pleasurable and sensual activities the very next day (19-20); he is

not disturbed when he hears his neighborbeatinghis mistress (36);

he shows no remorse after killing an Arab (100).

Meursault's trial evolves into an examination ofhis moral

sensibilities, revealing their inappropriateness according to social

standards. When Meursault's lawyer hears the investigators'

accusations that his client has "shown insensitivity" the day ofhis

mother's funeral (Camus 64), he tries to make the case that

Meursault was unable to express his emotions. Meursault,

however, refuses to admit to emotions he never felt: "He [my

lawyer] asked me ifhe could saythat that day I had held back my

natural feelings. I said, 'No, because it's not true'" (Camus 65).

Refusing to defend those feelings which society demands ofhirn,

Meursault affirmshis authentic self. He will notbetray his true self

to impress those observinghim andrequiring that he fit their social

41

mold. "Meursault refuses to make an abstraction ofhimself' by

"becom[ing] a great performer offeelings" (Elbrecht 65).

Both the Underground Man's and Meursault's quests for

self-authenticationbyrejectingsociety's confines ultimately alienate

them from others. Maurice Friedman alludes to Kierkegaard's

distinction between "the single one" and "the crowd" (10) in

identifying typical characteristics ofexistentialist characters as

including"personal authentication ofexistence, and with it, when

necessary that aloneness that enables one to stand as a genuine

person, or 'Single One,' in the face of the crowd" (10). Both

Meursault and the Underground Man experience this aloneness-

this distance from society-as a consequence ofpursuing self-

authentication.

The titles of the two works alert the reader to the

prominence of this type of alienation in the characters'

experiences. Camus entitled his novel L 'Etranger, a very

difficult term to translate accurately into English. Showalter

refers to the definition of"etranger" in the established French

dictionary, the Petit Robert: "Person whose nationality is not that

~

tJ~ ~

~ J

43 42

ofa given countIy; person who does not belong, or is considered

not to belong to afamily or clan; personwith whom one has nothing

in common" (22)-noting that the last two meanings are

particularly applicable to Camus's character. True to its title, The

Stranger traces Meursault's experience as one who does not

belong in society and is therefore alienated and rejected.

Scholars disagree somewhat as to why Meursault is

fundamentally a stranger to the rest ofsociety; however, they all

note his non-conformity to societal standards. In his extended

essay, "An Explication ofThe Stranger," Jean-Paul Sartre says

that Meursault is "one ofthose terrible innocents who shock society

by not accepting the rules ofits game" (qtd. in Showalter 11).

Albert Maquet's argument also sees society as a game governed •

byrules that we all must follow. He interprets Meursault's alienation • ~

as stemming from his refusal to support society's constructs.

Society condemns ... this kind ofmonster who

refuses with unequaled firmness to enter into the

game oftheir illusions, lies, and hypocrisies. So­

ciety wants a reassuring attitude from him and he

does nothing but denounce, by his tranquil stub­

bornness in speaking the truth, the real and miser­

able aspect ofman's fate. (55)

Meursault also appears a stranger to his society because

he lives only in the immediate moment; past and future have no

meaing for him. Living in successive, unrelated moments rather

than in fluid time, he is completely indifferent to life because the

past and the present do not affect his value judgments (Maquet

54). For this reason, he can flatly say after the weekend ofhis

mother's funeral, "Itoccurredto me that anyway one more Sunday

was over, that Maman was buried now, that I was going back to

work, and that, really, nothing had changed" (Camus 24). This

confinement to the present makes the concept ofa future with

someone meaningless. He tells his girlfriend Marie that love "didn't

mean anything" (35) and that "it didn't really matter" whether or

not they got married (42). In his book Albert Camus: A Study,

Brian Masters notes that life for Meursault" is a succession of

unrelated events.. .losing all value when they are over" (23). He

continues to develop this idea as follows:

L

AIIf

fJ~ :... J. J

43 42

ofa given countIy; person who does not belong, or is considered

not to belong to afamily or clan; personwith whom one has nothing

in common" (22)-noting that the last two meanings are

particularly applicable to Camus's character. True to its title, The

Stranger traces Meursault's experience as one who does not

belong in society and is therefore alienated and rejected.

Scholars disagree somewhat as to why Meursault is

fundamentally a stranger to the rest ofsociety; however, they all

note his non-conformity to societal standards. In his extended

essay, "An Explication ofThe Stranger," Jean-Paul Sartre says

that Meursault is "one ofthose terrible innocents who shock society

by not accepting the rules ofits game" (qtd. in Showalter 11).

Albert Maquet's argument also sees society as a game governed •

byrules that we all must follow. He interprets Meursault's alienation • ~

as stemming from his refusal to support society's constructs.

Society condemns ... this kind ofmonster who

refuses with unequaled firmness to enter into the

game oftheir illusions, lies, and hypocrisies. So­

ciety wants a reassuring attitude from him and he

does nothing but denounce, by his tranquil stub­

bornness in speaking the truth, the real and miser­

able aspect ofman's fate. (55)

Meursault also appears a stranger to his society because

he lives only in the immediate moment; past and future have no

meaing for him. Living in successive, unrelated moments rather

than in fluid time, he is completely indifferent to life because the

past and the present do not affect his value judgments (Maquet

54). For this reason, he can flatly say after the weekend ofhis

mother's funeral, "Itoccurredto me that anyway one more Sunday

was over, that Maman was buried now, that I was going back to

work, and that, really, nothing had changed" (Camus 24). This

confinement to the present makes the concept ofa future with

someone meaningless. He tells his girlfriend Marie that love "didn't

mean anything" (35) and that "it didn't really matter" whether or

not they got married (42). In his book Albert Camus: A Study,

Brian Masters notes that life for Meursault" is a succession of

unrelated events.. .losing all value when they are over" (23). He

continues to develop this idea as follows:

L

AIIf

fJ~ :... J. J

44 45

This confinement to the present tense makes

him "a 'stranger' among his fellows, with their

pasts and their futures, their regrets and their

aspirations. Being so unlike them, so 'bizarre'

as Marie puts it, he is exiled and alone."

(Masters 23)

The title Notesfrom Underground also suggests a theme

ofalienation between the individual and society. Onlya"stranger"

to the aboveground world would feel a need to withdraw to the

solitaIy"underground."IikeMeursault, the UndergroundMandoes

r

not fit into society. He clearlyrecognizes his inability to integrate:

At that time Iwas only twenty-four. Even then

my life was gloomy, disordered, and solitary

to the point ofsavagery. I didn't associate with

anyone; I even avoided talking, and I retreated

further and further into my corner.

(Dostoevsky 30)

He later explains his realization that ''no one was like me,

and Iwasn't like anyone else. 'I'm alone,' Imused, 'and they are

everyone'; and I sank into deep thought" (31). He has fleeting

moments when he desires connection with others, as when he

desires reconciliation with the friends he has offended (55);

however, his insistence on irrationalbehavior effectively bars him

from all hope ofa healthyrelationship.

His alienation is most evident in his rejection of

love with Liza. When he first meets her, he appears to have a

normal emotional response; he admires her physical appearance

andher"simpleand kind" face (60). However, his thoughts quickly

become disturbing. Recognizing his disheveled appearance and

"pale, spiteful, and mean" face, he thinks to himself, '''It doesn't

matter. I'm glad' [...J 'In fact, I'm even delighted that I'll seem

so repulsive to her; that pleases me... '" (60-1). He may have

flickering moments when he desires normal relationships, but

ultimately he ''wanted to remain alone in my underground" (88).

He has deliberatelychosen to defy the laws ofnature that

guide everyone else's actions, thus isolating himself from the

aboveground world. In attempting self-authentication through

irrational, disturbingbehavior, hehas distancedhimselffrom others.

44 45

This confinement to the present tense makes

him "a 'stranger' among his fellows, with their

pasts and their futures, their regrets and their

aspirations. Being so unlike them, so 'bizarre'

as Marie puts it, he is exiled and alone."

(Masters 23)

The title Notesfrom Underground also suggests a theme

ofalienation between the individual and society. Onlya"stranger"

to the aboveground world would feel a need to withdraw to the

solitaIy"underground."IikeMeursault, the UndergroundMandoes

r

not fit into society. He clearlyrecognizes his inability to integrate:

At that time Iwas only twenty-four. Even then

my life was gloomy, disordered, and solitary

to the point ofsavagery. I didn't associate with

anyone; I even avoided talking, and I retreated

further and further into my corner.

(Dostoevsky 30)

He later explains his realization that ''no one was like me,

and Iwasn't like anyone else. 'I'm alone,' Imused, 'and they are

everyone'; and I sank into deep thought" (31). He has fleeting

moments when he desires connection with others, as when he

desires reconciliation with the friends he has offended (55);

however, his insistence on irrationalbehavior effectively bars him

from all hope ofa healthyrelationship.

His alienation is most evident in his rejection of

love with Liza. When he first meets her, he appears to have a

normal emotional response; he admires her physical appearance

andher"simpleand kind" face (60). However, his thoughts quickly

become disturbing. Recognizing his disheveled appearance and

"pale, spiteful, and mean" face, he thinks to himself, '''It doesn't

matter. I'm glad' [...J 'In fact, I'm even delighted that I'll seem

so repulsive to her; that pleases me... '" (60-1). He may have

flickering moments when he desires normal relationships, but

ultimately he ''wanted to remain alone in my underground" (88).

He has deliberatelychosen to defy the laws ofnature that

guide everyone else's actions, thus isolating himself from the

aboveground world. In attempting self-authentication through

irrational, disturbingbehavior, hehas distancedhimselffrom others.

46 47 1

•lit

t,

I !l;

Like Meursault, the Underground Man works toward self­

authentication by affinninghis free will to choose irrationality; and

his radical rejection ofadetermined life alienates him from the rest

ofthe world, which operates under the supposed laws ofnature.

The significant element for both characters is their experience as

Kierkegaard's "single one," alienated from "the crowd" in their

process ofcreating a meaningful personal existence.

Although Meursault and the Underground Man appear

to desire a connection with the reader, both characters

ultimately distance themselves from their respective audiences.

The most obvious basis for reader / character alienation in The

Stranger is an inability to relate to Meursault. The reader, like the

textual "others," cannot understand a character removed from

emotion and confinedexclusivelyto thepresent. AsAlbert Maquet

argues, ''Insensibility, indifference, absenceoffeelings, 'inhumanity,'

this comprises more than is needed to elicit our avowal that

Meursault has appeared to us [readers] as a 'stranger'" (54).

The Underground Man may also be interpreted as a "stranger"

because the reader has difficulty in relating to his aggressiveness,

intense tunnoil, and anti-social behavior. As Malcom Jones states,

''TheUndergroundMan is certainlyvery unattractive, and no sane

reader would choose the Underground as he does ..." (61).

Initially, the first-person narrative appears to be most

fitting for honesty and openness with the reader, since it allows

the character to assume the role ofnarrator and directly share

his point ofview. However, this possibility is negated by the

unreliability of the narrators. John Cruickshank expounds

upon this significant characteristic of the text:

Traditionally, the first-personnarrator in fiction has

possessed a high degree ofself-knowledge and

has enjoyed a privileged insight (emphasis

added) into the thoughts and motives ofhis fellow

characters... hnmediately [when] one begins to

read L 'Etranger, however, one is struck by the

fact that the narrator, who is also the main

character, appears peculiarly ill-equipped, by

traditional standards, for his task. His intellectual

powers are unimpressive, his psychological insight

46

• Like Meursault, the UndergroundManW01ks towardself­

authentication by affinninghis free will to chooseinationality; and

his radical rejection ofadetennined life alienateshim fiomtherest

ofthe world, which operates under the supposed laws ofnature.

The significant element for both characters is their experience as

Kierkegaard's "single one," alienated from "the crowd" in their

process ofcreating a meaningful personal existence.

Although Meursault and the Underground Man appear

to desire a connection with the reader, both characters

ultimately distance themselves from their respective audiences.

The most obvious basis for reader / character alienation in The

Stranger is an inability to relate to Meursault. The reader, like the

textual "others," cannot understand a character removed from

emotion and confined exclusivelyto the present. AsAlbertMaquet

argues, ''Insensibility, indifference, absence offeelin~, 'inhumanity,'

this comprises more than is needed to elicit our avowal that

Meursault has appeared to us [readers} as a 'stranger'" (54).

The Underground Man may also be intezpreted as a "stranger"

because the readerhas difficulty inreJatin&~

47

intense turmoil, and anti-social behavior. As Malcom Jones states,

"TheUnderground Man is certainlyvery unattractive, andno sane

reader would choose the Underground as he does..." (61).

Initially, the first-person narrative appears to be most

fitting for honesty and openness with the reader, since it allows

the character to assume the role of narrator and directly share

his point ofview. However, this possibility is negated by the

unreliability of the narrators. John Cruickshank expounds

upon this significant characteristic of the text:

Traditionally, the first-person narrator in fiction has

possessed a high degree ofselfknowledge and

has enjoyed a privileged insight (emphasis

added) into the thoughts and motives ofhis fellow

characters ... Immediately [when] one begins to

read L 'Etranger, however, one is struck by the

fact that the narrator, who is also the main

character, appears peculiarly ill-equipped, by

traditional standards, for his task. His intellectual

powers are unimpressive, his psychological insight

48

is almost non-existent, and in general he appears

bemused by experience. (152)

The narrator leaves the reader ignorant not onlyofinsights

about others but also about himself, because he lacks the "self­

knowledge" oftypical first-person narrators. Showalternotes the

particulardifficultyofinterpreting Meursault in relation to the legal

process because of his inadequacy as narrator: "Meursault

provides ahigWyunreliable accountofhis trial--admits his attention

wavers, that his memory is selective, that his own concerns differ

from those ofthe court" (48). Not onlydoes this warp the reader's

perception ofwhat actuallyoccurred but notably, 'The distortions

[ofhis narration] do not reveal apatternwith which we can explain

Meursault" (Showalter 48). Despite an apparent effort to make

himself known, Meursault does not reliably communicate,

rendering us incapable ofunderstanding his authentic self

This distancing reflects an authorial decision in character

and text development. Patrick McCarthy compares Camus's

literary objectives inboth The Stranger and Caligula as follows:

"In both cases his aim was to disturb the reader-spectator and to

49

prevent him from identifying with ahero or entering a story" (80).

Camus has successfullyaccomplished this aim, alienating us from

the main character. The reader cannot relate to a character

removed from emotion and he cannot objectively enter the text

because ofthe unreliable narration.

The Underground Man's similarlyunreliable narration also

disturbs the reader and prevents him from identifying with the

Underground Man or understanding his authentic self. He alerts

us to his inadequacy as a communicator and his inability to

understand reality from the opening ofthe novel: "I am a sick

man... I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. I think my

liver is diseased. Then again, I don't know a thing about my

illness; I'm not even sure what hurts" (Dostoevsky 3). His

ambivalence about his own concrete experience makes the reader

uncertain ofthe reliabilityofhis perceptions ofhimselfand others.

As the story advances, the Underground Man serves not

only as an unreliable narrator but also as an openlyhostile one.

Mikhail Bakhtin reads Notes from Underground as a text

profoundly influenced by the language of other people and

48

is almost non-existent, and in general he appears

bemused by experience. (152)

The narrator leaves the reader ignorant not onlyofinsights

about others but also about himself, because he lacks the "self­

knowledge" oftypical first-person narrators. Showalternotes the

particulardifficultyofinterpreting Meursault in relation to the legal

process because of his inadequacy as narrator: "Meursault

provides ahigWyunreliable accountofhis trial--admits his attention

wavers, that his memory is selective, that his own concerns differ

from those ofthe court" (48). Not onlydoes this warp the reader's

perception ofwhat actuallyoccurred but notably, 'The distortions

[ofhis narration] do not reveal apatternwith which we can explain

Meursault" (Showalter 48). Despite an apparent effort to make

himself known, Meursault does not reliably communicate,

rendering us incapable ofunderstanding his authentic self

This distancing reflects an authorial decision in character

and text development. Patrick McCarthy compares Camus's

literary objectives inboth The Stranger and Caligula as follows:

"In both cases his aim was to disturb the reader-spectator and to

49

prevent him from identifying with ahero or entering a story" (80).

Camus has successfullyaccomplished this aim, alienating us from

the main character. The reader cannot relate to a character

removed from emotion and he cannot objectively enter the text

because ofthe unreliable narration.

The Underground Man's similarlyunreliable narration also

disturbs the reader and prevents him from identifying with the

Underground Man or understanding his authentic self. He alerts

us to his inadequacy as a communicator and his inability to

understand reality from the opening ofthe novel: "I am a sick

man... I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. I think my

liver is diseased. Then again, I don't know a thing about my

illness; I'm not even sure what hurts" (Dostoevsky 3). His

ambivalence about his own concrete experience makes the reader

uncertain ofthe reliabilityofhis perceptions ofhimselfand others.

As the story advances, the Underground Man serves not

only as an unreliable narrator but also as an openlyhostile one.

Mikhail Bakhtin reads Notes from Underground as a text

profoundly influenced by the language of other people and

50

interprets the main character's hostilityas a fear-induced response

to that language. The main character's primaryobjective is to

attain freedom from the opinions andjudgments ofothers (who

may be interpreted as the readers), so he does not want to

acknowledge their importance to his objective. Bakhtin explains

this objective as follows:

What he fears most ofall is that people might

think he is repenting before someone, that he

is asking someone's forgiveness, that he is

reconciling himselfto someone else's judgment

or evaluation, that his self-affinnation is somehow

in need ofaffinnation and recognition by another.

(154)

This desire and disdain creates acomplex relationship between

the Underground Man and his reader. Bakhtin recognizes that "in

its attitude toward the other person it [the Underground Man's

discourse] strives to be deliberately inelegant, to 'spite' him and

his tastes in all respects" (156). His desire to be absolutely

independent ofthe other's consciousness and its discourse means

51

an"extreme hostilitytoward it and nonacceptance ofitsjudgments"

(Bakhtin 155). Andrew Swensen also notes the antagonistic

relationship set up between the Underground Man and his reader.

"Dostoevsky's protagonist regularly addresses a 'you' within the

text, a series oftaunts marks this 'you' as an adversary" (270).

Despite their use offirst-person narrative, which could lend itself

to open and enlightening disclosure to the reader. Both writers

put the reader at a distance through their unreliable narrators.

Although these attempts at self-authentication distance

the characters from others and the reader, their most tragic

consequence is an ultimate alienation from their authentic selves.

The Underground Man believes his hyperconsciolisness allows

him to reject determinism and define his own existence, yet this

verymental state also selVes as his downfall. In distancing himself

from all objectifications including his own, he becomes both himself

and the other, a division incompatible with a truly authentic self.

Joseph Beatty asserts:

Self-consciousness, then, is his [the Underground

Man's] glory and misery. It is his glory because

50

interprets the main character's hostility as a fear-induced response

to that language. The main character's primary objective is to

attain freedom from the opinions andjudgments ofothers (who

may be interpreted as the readers), so he does not want to

acknowledge their importance to his objective. Bakhtin explains

this objective as follows:

What he fears most ofall is that people might

think he is repenting before someone, that he

is asking someone's forgiveness, that he is

reconciling himselfto someone else's judgment

orevaluation, that his self-affinnationis somehow

in need ofaffirmation and recognition byanother.

(154)

This desire and disdain creates a complex relationship between

the Underground Man and his reader. Bakhtinrecognizes that "in

its attitude toward the other person it [the Underground Man's

discourse] strives to be deliberately inelegant, to 'spite' him and

his tastes in all respects" (156). His desire to be absolutely

indClII·_.....~t8 consciousness and its discourse means

51

an"extremehostilitytoward it and nonacceptanceofitsjudgments"

(Bakhtin 155). Andrew Swensen also notes the antagonistic

relationship set up between the Underground Man and his reader.

"Dostoevsky's protagonist regularly addresses a 'you' within the

text, a series oftaunts marks this 'you' as an adversary" (270).

Despite their use offirst-person narrative, which could lend itself

to open and enlightening disclosure to the reader. Both writers

put the reader at adistance through their unreliable narrators.

Although these attempts at self-authentication distance

the characters from others and the reader, their most tragic

consequence is an ultimate alienation from their authentic selves.

The Underground Man believes his hyperconsciousness allows

him to reject determinism and define his own existence, yet this

very mental state also serves as his downfall. In distancing himself

from all objectifications includinghis own, hebecomesbothhimself

and the other, a division incompatible with a truly authentic self.

Joseph Beatty asserts:

Self-consciousness, then, is his [the Underground

Man's] glory and misery. It is his glory because

52 T:u

Meursault has emotions (regardless ofwhether they conform to its transcendence ofall detenninations frees him

from diminishment and reduction. Because he is

always other, he is evennore ahead ofany and all

of his own or others' objectifications. Self­

consciousness is also his misery, for he canneither

be nor be recognized for what he is ... The

tragedy ofthe UM{Underground Man] seems

to be that he cannot know or be himself

(emphasis added) nor be known or be loved by

others. (198)

A similarargument for self-division rather than reconciliationmay

be made for the main character of The Stranger although

Meursault's self-alienation maybe interpreted as resulting from

an underdeveloped consciousness as distinguished from the

Underground Man's hyperconsciousness. When asked during his

trial whether he felt any sadness at his mother's funeral, Meursault

articulates his self-approach: "I answered that I had pretty much

lost the habit ofanalyzing myselfand that it was hard for me to tell

him what he wanted to know" (Camus 65). Ifone concedes that

I society's standards), thenhisunwillingness to examine his feelings

actuallyrenders him incapable ofrecognizinghis true self English

Showalter, Jr. analyzes Meursault's reluctance for self-examination

in relation to the killing oftheArab as follows:

His [Meursault's] refusal ofintrospection allows

him to confuse his conditioned reflexes with

instincts. His rejection ofpurposes and meanings

makes himblind to his own motives. He genuinely

does not know why he killed the Arab, ... [nor]

why he did anything else.... Every attempt to

make him examine his own motives he brushes

aside [... ] ifhe cannot withdraw physically, he

withdraws mentally. (44)

Interpreted in this manner, Meursault's effort at self-authentication

lacks introspection. He does not know his deepest self because

he is blinded by his personal philosophy.

Thus, Dostoevsky's Notes from Underground

and Camus's The Stranger trace their main characters'

52 T:u

Meursault has emotions (regardless ofwhether they conform to its transcendence ofall detenninations frees him

from diminishment and reduction. Because he is

always other, he is evennore ahead ofany and all

of his own or others' objectifications. Self­

consciousness is also his misery, for he canneither

be nor be recognized for what he is ... The

tragedy ofthe UM{Underground Man] seems

to be that he cannot know or be himself

(emphasis added) nor be known or be loved by

others. (198)

A similarargument for self-division rather than reconciliationmay

be made for the main character of The Stranger although

Meursault's self-alienation maybe interpreted as resulting from

an underdeveloped consciousness as distinguished from the

Underground Man's hyperconsciousness. When asked during his

trial whether he felt any sadness at his mother's funeral, Meursault

articulates his self-approach: "I answered that I had pretty much

lost the habit ofanalyzing myselfand that it was hard for me to tell

him what he wanted to know" (Camus 65). Ifone concedes that

I society's standards), thenhisunwillingness to examine his feelings

actuallyrenders him incapable ofrecognizinghis true self English

Showalter, Jr. analyzes Meursault's reluctance for self-examination

in relation to the killing oftheArab as follows:

His [Meursault's] refusal ofintrospection allows

him to confuse his conditioned reflexes with

instincts. His rejection ofpurposes and meanings

makes himblind to his own motives. He genuinely

does not know why he killed the Arab, ... [nor]

why he did anything else.... Every attempt to

make him examine his own motives he brushes

aside [... ] ifhe cannot withdraw physically, he

withdraws mentally. (44)

Interpreted in this manner, Meursault's effort at self-authentication

lacks introspection. He does not know his deepest self because

he is blinded by his personal philosophy.

Thus, Dostoevsky's Notes from Underground

and Camus's The Stranger trace their main characters'

54

existentialpursuitofself-authenticationbytheirrefusal oftraditional

j.

... I

4 i

social confines. Both texts insightfully explore the relational

consequences of this process; the Underground Man and

Meursau1t want to embrace their authentic selves, yet pursuing

this objective leads to absolute alienation as they are distanced

from society, the reader, and themselves. Byeffectively criticizing

self-authentication, Dostoevskyand Camus have made significant

contributions to the existential discourse that has deepened

people's understanding ofthe pursuit ofone's true self

~)

Works Cited

Bakhtin, M. M. "Discourse in Dostoevsky." Notes from

Underground: A Norton Critical Edition. Trans. and

ed. Michael R. Katz. New York: Norton, 1989. 152­

162.

Beatty, Joseph. "From Rebellion and Alienation to Salutary

Freedom: A Study in Notesfrom Underground."

Soundings 61 (1978): 182-205.

Bourgeois, Patrick Lyall. "Dostoevsky and Existentialism: An

Experiment in Hermeneutics." Journal ofThought 15

(1980): 29-38.

Camus, Albert. The Stranger. Trans. Matthew Ward. New

York: Random, 1988.

Cruickshank, John. Albert Camus and the Literature ofRevolt.

New York: Oxford UP, 1960.

Davison, Ray. Camus: The Challenge ofDostoevsky. Exeter:

U ofExeter P, 1998.

54

existentialpursuitofself-authenticationbytheirrefusal oftraditional

j.

... I

4 i

social confines. Both texts insightfully explore the relational

consequences of this process; the Underground Man and

Meursau1t want to embrace their authentic selves, yet pursuing

this objective leads to absolute alienation as they are distanced

from society, the reader, and themselves. Byeffectively criticizing

self-authentication, Dostoevskyand Camus have made significant

contributions to the existential discourse that has deepened

people's understanding ofthe pursuit ofone's true self

~)

Works Cited

Bakhtin, M. M. "Discourse in Dostoevsky." Notes from

Underground: A Norton Critical Edition. Trans. and

ed. Michael R. Katz. New York: Norton, 1989. 152­

162.

Beatty, Joseph. "From Rebellion and Alienation to Salutary

Freedom: A Study in Notesfrom Underground."

Soundings 61 (1978): 182-205.

Bourgeois, Patrick Lyall. "Dostoevsky and Existentialism: An

Experiment in Hermeneutics." Journal ofThought 15

(1980): 29-38.

Camus, Albert. The Stranger. Trans. Matthew Ward. New

York: Random, 1988.

Cruickshank, John. Albert Camus and the Literature ofRevolt.

New York: Oxford UP, 1960.

Davison, Ray. Camus: The Challenge ofDostoevsky. Exeter:

U ofExeter P, 1998.

56 ~~

Elbrecht, Joyce. "The Stranger and Camus' Transcendental Ex­

istentialism." Hartford Studies in Literature 4 (1972):

59-80.

#

.. -,

Swenson, Andrew 1. "The Anguish ofGod's Lonely Men:

Dostoevsky's Underground Man and Scorsese's Travis

Bickle. Renascence 53 (2001): 267-86.

57

Friedman, Maruice. The Worlds ofExistentialism. New York:

Random, 1964.

Jones, Malcolm V. "Dostoevsky: Notes/rom Underground."

The Voice ofa Giant: Essays on Seven Russian Prose

Classics. Ed. Roger Cockrell and David Richards. Exeter:

U ofExeterP, 1985. 55-65.

Maquet, Albert. Albert Camus: The Invincible Summer. London:

Calder, 1958.

Masters, Brian. Camus: A Study. London: Heinemann, 1974.

McCarthy, Patrick. Camus: The Stranger. Cambridge: Cam­

bridge UP, 1988.

Showalter, English, Jr. The Stranger: Humanity and the Ab­

surd. Boston: Twayne, 1989.

56 ~~

Elbrecht, Joyce. "The Stranger and Camus' Transcendental Ex­

istentialism." Hartford Studies in Literature 4 (1972):

59-80.

#

.. -,

Swenson, Andrew 1. "The Anguish ofGod's Lonely Men:

Dostoevsky's Underground Man and Scorsese's Travis

Bickle. Renascence 53 (2001): 267-86.

57

Friedman, Maruice. The Worlds ofExistentialism. New York:

Random, 1964.

Jones, Malcolm V. "Dostoevsky: Notes/rom Underground."

The Voice ofa Giant: Essays on Seven Russian Prose

Classics. Ed. Roger Cockrell and David Richards. Exeter:

U ofExeterP, 1985. 55-65.

Maquet, Albert. Albert Camus: The Invincible Summer. London:

Calder, 1958.

Masters, Brian. Camus: A Study. London: Heinemann, 1974.

McCarthy, Patrick. Camus: The Stranger. Cambridge: Cam­

bridge UP, 1988.

Showalter, English, Jr. The Stranger: Humanity and the Ab­

surd. Boston: Twayne, 1989.

58

'I

Sins of the Father: Patriarchy and the Old South

in the Early Works of William Faulkner

John Easterbrook Manhattan College

Riverdale, New York

The events surrounding the Civil War and

Reconstruction led to the decline of patriarchy in the Old

South. With the end of the war and abolition of slavery, the

social and economic foundations of the patriarchal structure

began to collapse. The end of slavery eliminated the

slaveholding father's power base and effectively invalidated

his rule. With this collapse, the role of the father within the

family and society as a whole greatly deteriorated. The father's

continuing power loss created a situation where Southern

fathers "could not help but feel dwarfed by the fonnidable

ghosts of their forefathers" (Bleikasten 121-22). In most of

58

'I

Sins of the Father: Patriarchy and the Old South

in the Early Works of William Faulkner

John Easterbrook Manhattan College

Riverdale, New York

The events surrounding the Civil War and

Reconstruction led to the decline of patriarchy in the Old

South. With the end of the war and abolition of slavery, the

social and economic foundations of the patriarchal structure

began to collapse. The end of slavery eliminated the

slaveholding father's power base and effectively invalidated

his rule. With this collapse, the role of the father within the

family and society as a whole greatly deteriorated. The father's

continuing power loss created a situation where Southern

fathers "could not help but feel dwarfed by the fonnidable

ghosts of their forefathers" (Bleikasten 121-22). In most of

60 61 1

his early work, Faulkner is concerned with the father's fall

and its effect on future generations.

In the years following the Civil War, the Old South

came to exist on a nostalgic, mythical level. The horrors of

slavery were replaced by a longing for a time untouched by

war and industrialization This Southern romanticism was a

reaction against an increasing push in the postbellum South

toward industrialization, a movement that subordinated

Southern romanticism in favor ofan industrial North. C. Vann

Woodward notes that while the South began to embrace the

industrial vision, "there developed a cult of archaism, a

nostalgic vision of the past" (New South 154) that was

embraced by thousands of Southerners grieving for the Old

Order. These fundamentalists resisted the new push towards

an industrialized South and worked to establish the legitimacy

of the Lost Cause. Woodward reveals the emotional state of

the South during this time explaining that the more deeply

Southerners committed to the new order, "the louder [were]

the protests ofloyalty to the Old" (155).

The oldorderto which Southerners relatedwas patriarchal

in organization. Andre Bleikasten points out that "in the Old

South the patriarchal family typified to a large extent the proper

relations between ruler and ruled and so suppliedthe primal model

for social organization and political government" (156). Thus,

the father's rule over his wife and children was accepted as law

and gavejustification to a secondaryoppression, also specifically

patriarchal in its structure-that ofthe slave by the slaveholder.

The slaveholder was father and master in one and "presided over

an extended family" (Bleikasten 156) of whites and blacks,

demanding the same obedience from both his children and his

slaves. The notion ofthe extended family, ultimately, came to

characterize the whole system ofrace and class relations in the

Old South. Although the plantation slaveholders did not make up

the entirety of the Southern population, "the patriarchal and

paternalistic values ofthe ruling class permeated Southern society

at large" (156).

Faulkner's concern with the collapse ofpatriarchy in the

rising New South is reflected inthe wide arrayofineffective fathers

L

60 61 1

his early work, Faulkner is concerned with the father's fall

and its effect on future generations.

In the years following the Civil War, the Old South

came to exist on a nostalgic, mythical level. The horrors of

slavery were replaced by a longing for a time untouched by

war and industrialization This Southern romanticism was a

reaction against an increasing push in the postbellum South

toward industrialization, a movement that subordinated

Southern romanticism in favor ofan industrial North. C. Vann

Woodward notes that while the South began to embrace the

industrial vision, "there developed a cult of archaism, a

nostalgic vision of the past" (New South 154) that was

embraced by thousands of Southerners grieving for the Old

Order. These fundamentalists resisted the new push towards

an industrialized South and worked to establish the legitimacy

of the Lost Cause. Woodward reveals the emotional state of

the South during this time explaining that the more deeply

Southerners committed to the new order, "the louder [were]

the protests ofloyalty to the Old" (155).

The oldorderto which Southerners relatedwas patriarchal

in organization. Andre Bleikasten points out that "in the Old

South the patriarchal family typified to a large extent the proper

relations between ruler and ruled and so suppliedthe primal model

for social organization and political government" (156). Thus,

the father's rule over his wife and children was accepted as law

and gavejustification to a secondaryoppression, also specifically

patriarchal in its structure-that ofthe slave by the slaveholder.

The slaveholder was father and master in one and "presided over

an extended family" (Bleikasten 156) of whites and blacks,

demanding the same obedience from both his children and his

slaves. The notion ofthe extended family, ultimately, came to

characterize the whole system ofrace and class relations in the

Old South. Although the plantation slaveholders did not make up

the entirety of the Southern population, "the patriarchal and

paternalistic values ofthe ruling class permeated Southern society

at large" (156).

Faulkner's concern with the collapse ofpatriarchy in the

rising New South is reflected inthe wide arrayofineffective fathers

L

62 63

that plague his earlier novels. Gwendolyn Chabrier states that

"Faulkner's children as presentedinhis work ofthis [early] period

are often doomed to be the prisoners ofthe narrow lives their

parents allowed them. They are portrayed as puppets, their

parents the puppeteers"(116). These fictional fathers include the

incapable Mr. Jason Compson (The Sound and the Fury),

destined to "fail at everything he touched" (Faulkner206); Colonel

Thomas Sutpen (Absalom, Absalom.!), whose success would

ultimately cost him not only his family but his life as well; Simon

McEachern (Light in August), whose tyranny would eventually

drive away his adopted son; and finally, Anse Bundren (As I

Lay Dying) whose children inexplicably stand byhim despite his

neglect.

Faulkner believed that the Old South was inextricably

linked with patriarchy and that the father's authority within

the family served as a model for many aspects of the Old

South. Consequently, Faulkner represents the failure of the

Old South through the failure of its patriarchs. The failure of

these fathers reflects an outdated culture that was striving to

survive in an increasingly modern world. In particular, their

inability to function as fathers stems from their own place

within a hypocritical and destructive caste system. However,

the majority of the blame falls upon each father, whose

dependence upon Old Southern values leaves his children ill

prepared for modernity. This results in the failure and death

ofthe Faulkllerian family, reflecting the fate of the Old South

itself.

Fathers in Faulkner's early work are characteristically

lost in the outdated values of the Old South. These values

range from the religious Puritanism of McEachern to the

nihilism of Mr. Compson. These men are similar in their

inability to transcend their personal crises and inherited values

to pass on any useful knowledge to their children. All they

can offer is physical and emotional abuse combined with a

destructive lack of practical knowledge. Mr. Compson's

antiquated values are to blame for his inability to prepare his

children for the New South rising around them. Rather than

realizing his failure and attempting to offer his children a

62 63

that plague his earlier novels. Gwendolyn Chabrier states that

"Faulkner's children as presentedinhis work ofthis [early] period

are often doomed to be the prisoners ofthe narrow lives their

parents allowed them. They are portrayed as puppets, their

parents the puppeteers"(116). These fictional fathers include the

incapable Mr. Jason Compson (The Sound and the Fury),

destined to "fail at everything he touched" (Faulkner206); Colonel

Thomas Sutpen (Absalom, Absalom.!), whose success would

ultimately cost him not only his family but his life as well; Simon

McEachern (Light in August), whose tyranny would eventually

drive away his adopted son; and finally, Anse Bundren (As I

Lay Dying) whose children inexplicably stand byhim despite his

neglect.

Faulkner believed that the Old South was inextricably

linked with patriarchy and that the father's authority within

the family served as a model for many aspects of the Old

South. Consequently, Faulkner represents the failure of the

Old South through the failure of its patriarchs. The failure of

these fathers reflects an outdated culture that was striving to

survive in an increasingly modern world. In particular, their

inability to function as fathers stems from their own place

within a hypocritical and destructive caste system. However,

the majority of the blame falls upon each father, whose

dependence upon Old Southern values leaves his children ill

prepared for modernity. This results in the failure and death

ofthe Faulkllerian family, reflecting the fate of the Old South

itself.

Fathers in Faulkner's early work are characteristically

lost in the outdated values of the Old South. These values

range from the religious Puritanism of McEachern to the

nihilism of Mr. Compson. These men are similar in their

inability to transcend their personal crises and inherited values

to pass on any useful knowledge to their children. All they

can offer is physical and emotional abuse combined with a

destructive lack of practical knowledge. Mr. Compson's

antiquated values are to blame for his inability to prepare his

children for the New South rising around them. Rather than

realizing his failure and attempting to offer his children a

64

chance at life in the modern world, he manages to instill in

his children the same values that have created his impotence,

particularly his nihilistic philosophy. Gwendolyn Chabrier

states:

the transmission ofan outmoded code ofethics

is a problem particularly plaguing to the twen­

tieth-century South's upper classes, who have

to adapt themselves to a value system based

mainly on money rather than on ... the virtues

... at the heart of ... the of the pre-Civil War

South. (107)

This same problem exists for the Compson children whose

father has raised them on ideals that are incompatible to the

world they live in. Combined with Mr. Compson's nihilistic

philosophy, these obsolete values leave the Compson children

unable to function in the modem world. More than any other

Compson child, the effects of Mr. Compson's teachings are

shown most explicitly in Quentin, whose obsession with his

father's philosophy eventually leads to his suicide.

r 65

Three years later, Faulkner would publish Light in

August, telling the story of Joanna Burden, Gail Hightower,

and Joe Christmas, all ofwhom are subjected to the outdated,

puritanical values of their fathers. A common experience

among children ofthe South, puritanical upbringing did much

to alienate these children from their fathers. Chabrier explains

that "(g)enerally, the child, or sometimes a grandchild, who

is the recipient of a puritanical upbringing is weaned on

principles and empty abstractions, not on love" (103). This

accounts for Hightower's alienation from his father. In fact,

Hightower's name suggests that he is unable to come down

from his tower and engage with the real world.

This passing of obsession from father to child also

explains the vehemence with which Joanna Burden fights for

the civil rights offormer slaves. Just as Hightower's romance

with the past is taken too far, Joanna's fixation on race is

taken to such an extreme that it leads to her death when she

tries to impose her values on Joe Christmas. More than any

64

chance at life in the modern world, he manages to instill in

his children the same values that have created his impotence,

particularly his nihilistic philosophy. Gwendolyn Chabrier

states:

the transmission ofan outmoded code ofethics

is a problem particularly plaguing to the twen­

tieth-century South's upper classes, who have

to adapt themselves to a value system based

mainly on money rather than on ... the virtues

... at the heart of ... the of the pre-Civil War

South. (107)

This same problem exists for the Compson children whose

father has raised them on ideals that are incompatible to the

world they live in. Combined with Mr. Compson's nihilistic

philosophy, these obsolete values leave the Compson children

unable to function in the modem world. More than any other

Compson child, the effects of Mr. Compson's teachings are

shown most explicitly in Quentin, whose obsession with his

father's philosophy eventually leads to his suicide.

r 65

Three years later, Faulkner would publish Light in

August, telling the story of Joanna Burden, Gail Hightower,

and Joe Christmas, all ofwhom are subjected to the outdated,

puritanical values of their fathers. A common experience

among children ofthe South, puritanical upbringing did much

to alienate these children from their fathers. Chabrier explains

that "(g)enerally, the child, or sometimes a grandchild, who

is the recipient of a puritanical upbringing is weaned on

principles and empty abstractions, not on love" (103). This

accounts for Hightower's alienation from his father. In fact,

Hightower's name suggests that he is unable to come down

from his tower and engage with the real world.

This passing of obsession from father to child also

explains the vehemence with which Joanna Burden fights for

the civil rights offormer slaves. Just as Hightower's romance

with the past is taken too far, Joanna's fixation on race is

taken to such an extreme that it leads to her death when she

tries to impose her values on Joe Christmas. More than any

66 67

other character in the novel, Joe Christmas suffers because of

his puritanical upbringing, the legacy ofhis adoptive father.

McEachern's contempt for his adopted son Joe

Christmas is shown through their first meeting at the

orphanage. The father stares at the boy with "the same stare

with which he might have examined a horse or a second hand

plow, convinced beforehand that he would see flaws" (142).

McEachern would soon begin his attempt to control his

adopted son whom he is convinced can be saved only by ritual

beatings meant to instill the values of "work and the fear of

God" (144). The battle ofwills between father and son slowly

breaks the boy of any ability to function properly in society.

By the time Christmas is eight years old, McEachern has

already worn the boy down through intense physical and

mental abuse.

The violence and ruthlessness of his father is all

Christmas has ever encountered. At seventeen,his submission

is complete as Faulkner presents the image of "both the man

and the boy accepting [his punishment] as a natural and

.

L

inescapable fact" (167). McEachern experiences every chance

to correct the boy with a sense "of satisfaction and victory"

(164). By the time his education is done, Christmas has

become a cold man, incapable of any deep emotional

relationship, even with women. In them he perceived" that

soft kindness which he believed himselfdoomed to be forever

victim of and which he hated worse than he did the hard and

ruthless justice of men" (168-69).

The guilt that Christmas has been taught to associate

with sex pervades his first sexual encounter and other

relationships with women, all of which end in violence.

Christmas is the only one who doesn't know that Bobbie

Allen is really a prostitute, not his girlfriend. This doomed

relationship brings about disaster not only for Christmas but

also for McEachern. When he confronts Christmas at a late

night dance, he characteristically damns the son for consorting

with a whore and rushes headlong to his own death with

"the furious and dreamlike exaltation ofa martyr" (205). The

irony is that McEachern's puritanical teachings had led

66 67

other character in the novel, Joe Christmas suffers because of

his puritanical upbringing, the legacy ofhis adoptive father.

McEachern's contempt for his adopted son Joe

Christmas is shown through their first meeting at the

orphanage. The father stares at the boy with "the same stare

with which he might have examined a horse or a second hand

plow, convinced beforehand that he would see flaws" (142).

McEachern would soon begin his attempt to control his

adopted son whom he is convinced can be saved only by ritual

beatings meant to instill the values of "work and the fear of

God" (144). The battle ofwills between father and son slowly

breaks the boy of any ability to function properly in society.

By the time Christmas is eight years old, McEachern has

already worn the boy down through intense physical and

mental abuse.

The violence and ruthlessness of his father is all

Christmas has ever encountered. At seventeen,his submission

is complete as Faulkner presents the image of "both the man

and the boy accepting [his punishment] as a natural and

.

L

inescapable fact" (167). McEachern experiences every chance

to correct the boy with a sense "of satisfaction and victory"

(164). By the time his education is done, Christmas has

become a cold man, incapable of any deep emotional

relationship, even with women. In them he perceived" that

soft kindness which he believed himselfdoomed to be forever

victim of and which he hated worse than he did the hard and

ruthless justice of men" (168-69).

The guilt that Christmas has been taught to associate

with sex pervades his first sexual encounter and other

relationships with women, all of which end in violence.

Christmas is the only one who doesn't know that Bobbie

Allen is really a prostitute, not his girlfriend. This doomed

relationship brings about disaster not only for Christmas but

also for McEachern. When he confronts Christmas at a late

night dance, he characteristically damns the son for consorting

with a whore and rushes headlong to his own death with

"the furious and dreamlike exaltation ofa martyr" (205). The

irony is that McEachern's puritanical teachings had led

68

Christmas to strike out at his father in the first place. Through

the character ofChristmas, Faulkner reveals that the only way

to escape the lessons ofthe Old South is to perish like the Old

South itself.

The lives and deaths of Colonel Thomas Sutpen and

his children provide an excellent example of this. Sutpen's

values and their effects on his children in Absalom, Absalom!

present Faulkner's most explicit use of the father-son

relationship as a metaphor for the eradication ofthe Old South.

Supten's values show the incompatibility between the values

of the aristocratic Old South and the increasingly industrial

New South. Sutpen attempts to solidify his position in the

New South by attaining all the possessions that a Southern

gentleman of the Old South is supposed to have: "I had a

design. To accomplish it I should require money, a house, a

plantation, slaves, a family-incidentally of course, a wife"

(Faulkner, Absalom 212).

Throughout the novel, Sutpen strives to complete this

design and assert his status in the postwar South. By the end

69

~ \1

.~ of the novel, as his plantation falls down around him, Sutpen I

,'t II I resembles Mr. Compson. In perhaps no other novel does

Faulkner make so explicit the effects of the Civil War on the

Old South. Before the Civil War, Sutpen thrived in a "time

when ladies did not walk but floated" (24). He succeeded in

acquiring a respectable wife, a male heir, and "a hundred

square miles of some of the best virgin bottom land in the

country" (26).

Sutpen's design, like the Old South, is doomed from

the start because it "reduces all human relation within it to

the status of mechanical and preordained interactions"

(Lensing 99). In his attempt to maintain his patriarchal and

aristocratic values, Sutpen alienates and rejects his children,

destroying the family that plays such a fundamental role in

his design. For Faulkner, Sutpen's failure to understand the

human attachments that are at the heart of the family prove

fatal:

To me, he is to be pitied, as anyone who

ignores man is to be pitied, who does not

68

Christmas to strike out at his father in the first place. Through

the character ofChristmas, Faulkner reveals that the only way

to escape the lessons ofthe Old South is to perish like the Old

South itself.

The lives and deaths of Colonel Thomas Sutpen and

his children provide an excellent example of this. Sutpen's

values and their effects on his children in Absalom, Absalom!

present Faulkner's most explicit use of the father-son

relationship as a metaphor for the eradication ofthe Old South.

Supten's values show the incompatibility between the values

of the aristocratic Old South and the increasingly industrial

New South. Sutpen attempts to solidify his position in the

New South by attaining all the possessions that a Southern

gentleman of the Old South is supposed to have: "I had a

design. To accomplish it I should require money, a house, a

plantation, slaves, a family-incidentally of course, a wife"

(Faulkner, Absalom 212).

Throughout the novel, Sutpen strives to complete this

design and assert his status in the postwar South. By the end

69

~ \1

.~ of the novel, as his plantation falls down around him, Sutpen I

,'t II I resembles Mr. Compson. In perhaps no other novel does

Faulkner make so explicit the effects of the Civil War on the

Old South. Before the Civil War, Sutpen thrived in a "time

when ladies did not walk but floated" (24). He succeeded in

acquiring a respectable wife, a male heir, and "a hundred

square miles of some of the best virgin bottom land in the

country" (26).

Sutpen's design, like the Old South, is doomed from

the start because it "reduces all human relation within it to

the status of mechanical and preordained interactions"

(Lensing 99). In his attempt to maintain his patriarchal and

aristocratic values, Sutpen alienates and rejects his children,

destroying the family that plays such a fundamental role in

his design. For Faulkner, Sutpen's failure to understand the

human attachments that are at the heart of the family prove

fatal:

To me, he is to be pitied, as anyone who

ignores man is to be pitied, who does not

1•, 70 I.:",

believe that he belongs as a member of a

human family, is to be pitied. Sutpen didn't

believe that. He was Sutpen. He was going

to take what he wanted because he was big

enough and strong enough, and I think that

people like that are destroyed sooner or later,

because one has to belong to the human family,

and to take a responsible part in the human

family (Faulkner, University 80-81).

Sutpen offers no hope for a healthy relationship

between himself and his male heirs. Their relationships are

"of such a nature as to preclude the very possibility of an act

of recognition. In a sense... the son is doomed either to be

absorbed or to be expelled. ..." (Bleikasten, Fathers 141­

42). Henry, Sutpen's legitimate child, immediately becomes

the object of tyranny. Henry's first appearance in the novel

shows him being held against his will, "screaming and

vomiting" (21) as he is forced to watch his father wrestle with

one of the slaves. Henry becomes an instrument that Sutpen

71

will use to protect his vision ofhis family from Charles Bon.

Bon, the son Supten refuses to recognize, is doomed to spend

his life trying to gain Sutpen's acknowledgement.

Bon feels the impact of Sutpen's twisted sense of

family even more than Henry. The dramatic influence of

Sutpen's denial is made painfully clear when Bon says, "I

shall penetrate [my father's regard] by something of will and

intensity ... and look not on my brother's face ... but my

father's ... (254). Bon's need for recognition from his father

leads to his seduction of his half-sister Judith, an act that he

hopes will force some recognition from Sutpen. This hope is

destroyed when Henry kills him. In the end, the Civil War

and the rise of the New South have eradicated the world and

values of Thomas Sutpen, Jason Compson, and Simon

McEachern-none of whom properly educates his children

for life in the modem world.

Faulkner, however, portrays one father who is able to

adapt to the changing values of the New South. Despite the

many similarities between As I Lay Dying and Faulkner's other

1•, 70 I.:",

believe that he belongs as a member of a

human family, is to be pitied. Sutpen didn't

believe that. He was Sutpen. He was going

to take what he wanted because he was big

enough and strong enough, and I think that

people like that are destroyed sooner or later,

because one has to belong to the human family,

and to take a responsible part in the human

family (Faulkner, University 80-81).

Sutpen offers no hope for a healthy relationship

between himself and his male heirs. Their relationships are

"of such a nature as to preclude the very possibility of an act

of recognition. In a sense... the son is doomed either to be

absorbed or to be expelled. ..." (Bleikasten, Fathers 141­

42). Henry, Sutpen's legitimate child, immediately becomes

the object of tyranny. Henry's first appearance in the novel

shows him being held against his will, "screaming and

vomiting" (21) as he is forced to watch his father wrestle with

one of the slaves. Henry becomes an instrument that Sutpen

71

will use to protect his vision ofhis family from Charles Bon.

Bon, the son Supten refuses to recognize, is doomed to spend

his life trying to gain Sutpen's acknowledgement.

Bon feels the impact of Sutpen's twisted sense of

family even more than Henry. The dramatic influence of

Sutpen's denial is made painfully clear when Bon says, "I

shall penetrate [my father's regard] by something of will and

intensity ... and look not on my brother's face ... but my

father's ... (254). Bon's need for recognition from his father

leads to his seduction of his half-sister Judith, an act that he

hopes will force some recognition from Sutpen. This hope is

destroyed when Henry kills him. In the end, the Civil War

and the rise of the New South have eradicated the world and

values of Thomas Sutpen, Jason Compson, and Simon

McEachern-none of whom properly educates his children

for life in the modem world.

Faulkner, however, portrays one father who is able to

adapt to the changing values of the New South. Despite the

many similarities between As I Lay Dying and Faulkner's other

72 73r works, the novel presents a father who is able to leave the

values of the Old South behind and adapt to the rising New

South. After all, it is Anse Bundren who comes out on top at

the end ofthe novel with his new wife and a new set ofteeth­

the perfect symbol for the way that Anse's values consume

his family. Anse's capitalistic selfishness consumes his family

and inflicts both psychological and physical harm on his

children.

In a sense, his selfishness should function as a means

for his children to adapt to and survive in the modern world.

Anse's survival in the modern world comes at a great cost to

his children, whom he continually ignores, endangers, and

robs. Anse reveals his selfishness early in the novel. As his

wife lies dying inside the house, he focuses on his own

suffering: "1 am a luckless man. 1 have ever been" (18). He

forces his children to leave the bedside of their dying mother

by making them feel they would do better to earn three dollars

that the family desperately needs. The most evident symbol

ofAnse's selfishness is the family's journey to bury Addie, a

L-

trip that Anse claims they must make to fulfill Addie's last

wish. This supposedly unselfish act is seen most accurately

by townspeople like Samson who remarks: "He set there on

the wagon, hunched up, blinking, listening to us ... and I be

durn ifhe didn't act like he was proud of it" (114).

The last few lines of the novel reveal that Anse has

merely been serving himself. In stark contrast with the other

three fathers that dominate Faulkner's early work, Anse is

able to abandon the Old Southern values. He completely

embodies the industrial and capitalist values of the growing

New South. The sad reality is that even though Anse has

apparently adapted to life in the New South, his family still

suffers like the Compsons, Sutpens, and McEacherns. Anse's

abuse ofhis family is significant because it reveals Faulkner's

belief that the Old South is so completely incompatible with

the New South that even Anse Bundren is faced with terrible

consequences.

The children in these novels are ill prepared for modern

life and their fathers are unable to sustain themselves in the

72 73r works, the novel presents a father who is able to leave the

values of the Old South behind and adapt to the rising New

South. After all, it is Anse Bundren who comes out on top at

the end ofthe novel with his new wife and a new set ofteeth­

the perfect symbol for the way that Anse's values consume

his family. Anse's capitalistic selfishness consumes his family

and inflicts both psychological and physical harm on his

children.

In a sense, his selfishness should function as a means

for his children to adapt to and survive in the modern world.

Anse's survival in the modern world comes at a great cost to

his children, whom he continually ignores, endangers, and

robs. Anse reveals his selfishness early in the novel. As his

wife lies dying inside the house, he focuses on his own

suffering: "1 am a luckless man. 1 have ever been" (18). He

forces his children to leave the bedside of their dying mother

by making them feel they would do better to earn three dollars

that the family desperately needs. The most evident symbol

ofAnse's selfishness is the family's journey to bury Addie, a

L-

trip that Anse claims they must make to fulfill Addie's last

wish. This supposedly unselfish act is seen most accurately

by townspeople like Samson who remarks: "He set there on

the wagon, hunched up, blinking, listening to us ... and I be

durn ifhe didn't act like he was proud of it" (114).

The last few lines of the novel reveal that Anse has

merely been serving himself. In stark contrast with the other

three fathers that dominate Faulkner's early work, Anse is

able to abandon the Old Southern values. He completely

embodies the industrial and capitalist values of the growing

New South. The sad reality is that even though Anse has

apparently adapted to life in the New South, his family still

suffers like the Compsons, Sutpens, and McEacherns. Anse's

abuse ofhis family is significant because it reveals Faulkner's

belief that the Old South is so completely incompatible with

the New South that even Anse Bundren is faced with terrible

consequences.

The children in these novels are ill prepared for modern

life and their fathers are unable to sustain themselves in the

74 75 f

New South. In the Old Southern social order, the patriarch

was closely associated with the welfare of the South.

Consequently, the literal death of the patriarch presents

Faulkner with an appropriate metaphor for the collapse ofthe

Old South and its values. The deaths ofSutpen, McEachern,

Coldfield, and Compson reflect the way in which the Old

South gave way to the postbellurn era. The Sutpen children

fade away as Sutpen's own life is taken as a consequence of

his rejection of Milly and the infant girl she bears him. He

dies violently at the hand of a fonner servant. Thus, the man

who was once the image of the Old Southern aristocracy is

displaced as surely as his society. Other Faulknerian fathers

also disappear. In an attempt to hold on to the past, Compson

locks himselfin his office to read the classics. Coldfield cannot

face the events ofthe Civil War and locks himselfaway in his

attic. These fathers choose to ignore reality rather than face

it.

The effects are particularly disastrous for the

Compsons. The Compson children have known neither war

nor the glory days of the Old South. They have not been

forced to watch their world disappear and be replaced by a

new one. They have, however, endured their cynical, defeated,

and ineffectual father. Mr. Compson, "modeled on Faulkner's

own father" (Weinstein 106), brings about the fall of his

family. Mr. Compson's status as destroyer comes from his

lack of parental influence. What little effort he does make as

a father proves Mr. Compson unfit for the role. He leaves his

children with an inherited sense offailure. Andre Bleikasten

describes the relationship between Mr. Compson and his

children as "an encounter ofshadows, for there is neither father

to be obeyed nor father to be challenged" (Fathers 127).

This same description can be applied to the

relationship between Coldfield and his daughter in Absalom,

Absalom!. As her father immures himselfin his his attic, the

young daughter is left on her own. With the deaths of

Compson and Coldfield, Faulkner manages to capture the way

in which old Southern values were slowly and quietly replaced

during Reconstruction. In Light in August, Faulkner returns

74 75 f

New South. In the Old Southern social order, the patriarch

was closely associated with the welfare of the South.

Consequently, the literal death of the patriarch presents

Faulkner with an appropriate metaphor for the collapse ofthe

Old South and its values. The deaths ofSutpen, McEachern,

Coldfield, and Compson reflect the way in which the Old

South gave way to the postbellurn era. The Sutpen children

fade away as Sutpen's own life is taken as a consequence of

his rejection of Milly and the infant girl she bears him. He

dies violently at the hand of a fonner servant. Thus, the man

who was once the image of the Old Southern aristocracy is

displaced as surely as his society. Other Faulknerian fathers

also disappear. In an attempt to hold on to the past, Compson

locks himselfin his office to read the classics. Coldfield cannot

face the events ofthe Civil War and locks himselfaway in his

attic. These fathers choose to ignore reality rather than face

it.

The effects are particularly disastrous for the

Compsons. The Compson children have known neither war

nor the glory days of the Old South. They have not been

forced to watch their world disappear and be replaced by a

new one. They have, however, endured their cynical, defeated,

and ineffectual father. Mr. Compson, "modeled on Faulkner's

own father" (Weinstein 106), brings about the fall of his

family. Mr. Compson's status as destroyer comes from his

lack of parental influence. What little effort he does make as

a father proves Mr. Compson unfit for the role. He leaves his

children with an inherited sense offailure. Andre Bleikasten

describes the relationship between Mr. Compson and his

children as "an encounter ofshadows, for there is neither father

to be obeyed nor father to be challenged" (Fathers 127).

This same description can be applied to the

relationship between Coldfield and his daughter in Absalom,

Absalom!. As her father immures himselfin his his attic, the

young daughter is left on her own. With the deaths of

Compson and Coldfield, Faulkner manages to capture the way

in which old Southern values were slowly and quietly replaced

during Reconstruction. In Light in August, Faulkner returns

76 77

to his portrayal of the patriarch's violent death. Simon continual obsession with the words of his father imply that

McEachern meets a fate similar to Sutpen's when he dies

violently at the hands of his own son-the perfect sYmbol of

the New Order replacing the Old.

The violent ends that await the children of these

powerful patriarchs are characteristic ofFaulkner's use ofthe

family as a metaphor for the Old South. A failure in his own

life, Mr. Compson manages to pass on his own nihilism to

his most beloved son, Quentin. Quentin often reflects on the

negative philosophy that Mr. Compson tried to make clear:

"No battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought.

The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and

victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools" (Faulkner,

Fury 48). For Mr. Compson, "the past is never lost,

unfortunately; it is always there, it is an obsession" (Sartre

268). The tragedy lies in the fact that Quentin takes his father's

words to heart: "Father said a man is the sum of his

misfortunes. One day you'd think misfortune would get tired,

but then time is your misfortune Father said" (66). This

Quentin's psychological state has taken a turn for the worse.

Faulkner further reveals this obsession as Quentin

recounts, word for word, one of their conversations:

Man who is conceived by accident and whose

every breath is a fresh cast with dice already

loaded against him \\'i11 not face that final main

[gamble] which he knows beforehand he has

assuredly to face without essaying expedients

ranging all the way from violence to petty

chicanery that would not deceive a child until

someday in very disgust he risks everything

on a single blind tum of a card (112).

As Quentin recalls his father's commentary on life, he is

describing the events that are about to take place. He has

accepted his father's defeatist values and sees no sense in

prolonging his own life.

In Light in August, Joe Christmas's death also stems

from the destructive values that his father passes down to

76 77

to his portrayal of the patriarch's violent death. Simon continual obsession with the words of his father imply that

McEachern meets a fate similar to Sutpen's when he dies

violently at the hands of his own son-the perfect sYmbol of

the New Order replacing the Old.

The violent ends that await the children of these

powerful patriarchs are characteristic ofFaulkner's use ofthe

family as a metaphor for the Old South. A failure in his own

life, Mr. Compson manages to pass on his own nihilism to

his most beloved son, Quentin. Quentin often reflects on the

negative philosophy that Mr. Compson tried to make clear:

"No battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought.

The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and

victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools" (Faulkner,

Fury 48). For Mr. Compson, "the past is never lost,

unfortunately; it is always there, it is an obsession" (Sartre

268). The tragedy lies in the fact that Quentin takes his father's

words to heart: "Father said a man is the sum of his

misfortunes. One day you'd think misfortune would get tired,

but then time is your misfortune Father said" (66). This

Quentin's psychological state has taken a turn for the worse.

Faulkner further reveals this obsession as Quentin

recounts, word for word, one of their conversations:

Man who is conceived by accident and whose

every breath is a fresh cast with dice already

loaded against him \\'i11 not face that final main

[gamble] which he knows beforehand he has

assuredly to face without essaying expedients

ranging all the way from violence to petty

chicanery that would not deceive a child until

someday in very disgust he risks everything

on a single blind tum of a card (112).

As Quentin recalls his father's commentary on life, he is

describing the events that are about to take place. He has

accepted his father's defeatist values and sees no sense in

prolonging his own life.

In Light in August, Joe Christmas's death also stems

from the destructive values that his father passes down to

78 79

him. In his final and fatal relationship with Joanna Burden,

Christmas is unable to maintain a healthy, emotional

relationship because ofhis father's puritanical teachings. The

son sets himself up as the aloof, coldhearted lover in

opposition to the obsessed, feverish passion of Joanna. The

result is Joanna's failed attempt at murdering Christmas in

order to create the black lover she desires. Although she fails

in this attempt, Christmas's demise is soon brought about in

retaliation for Joanna's murder. With Christmas's death,

McEachern's teachings have come full circle--his son has

been killed and the family line has been severed. The

antiquated morals that McEachern hoped would keep

Christmas out of trouble have brought about his death.

Henry Sutpen also feels the burden of his father's

values. Overcome by his father's obsolete aristocratic and

chivalric code, Henry is driven to murder his half-brother Bon.

Sutpen's only surviving son is then forced to flee the guilt of

murdering his half-brother and spends the last years of his

life secluded in one of the few buildings that remain on

Sutpen's land. Like Mr. Compson and Goodhue Coldfield,

Henry is incapable ofdealing with the world and is forced to

seclude himself. Ironically, Sutpen's warped relationships

with his two male heirs have resulted in the murder of one,

the seclusion of another, and the spinsterhood of his only

legitimate daughter.

Even the Bundren children ofAs I Lay Dying, whose

father is the only Faulknerian father capable of assimilating

into the New South, are doomed to the violence that plagues

these novels. Anse is analogous to Mr. Compson in that he

neglects his children, but Anse's disregard exists on such an

outrageous level that it is amazing his children even survive

the quest to bury their mother. The Bundren children's j ourney

through modernity is devastating. Even Anse's postbellum

selfishness will not save his children in the New South. By

the end of the novel, Dad has been locked away; Cash has

nearly lost his leg; and Vardaman's future appears troubled.

The fate of these children underscores the damage that Old

Southern values can inflict.

78 79

him. In his final and fatal relationship with Joanna Burden,

Christmas is unable to maintain a healthy, emotional

relationship because ofhis father's puritanical teachings. The

son sets himself up as the aloof, coldhearted lover in

opposition to the obsessed, feverish passion of Joanna. The

result is Joanna's failed attempt at murdering Christmas in

order to create the black lover she desires. Although she fails

in this attempt, Christmas's demise is soon brought about in

retaliation for Joanna's murder. With Christmas's death,

McEachern's teachings have come full circle--his son has

been killed and the family line has been severed. The

antiquated morals that McEachern hoped would keep

Christmas out of trouble have brought about his death.

Henry Sutpen also feels the burden of his father's

values. Overcome by his father's obsolete aristocratic and

chivalric code, Henry is driven to murder his half-brother Bon.

Sutpen's only surviving son is then forced to flee the guilt of

murdering his half-brother and spends the last years of his

life secluded in one of the few buildings that remain on

Sutpen's land. Like Mr. Compson and Goodhue Coldfield,

Henry is incapable ofdealing with the world and is forced to

seclude himself. Ironically, Sutpen's warped relationships

with his two male heirs have resulted in the murder of one,

the seclusion of another, and the spinsterhood of his only

legitimate daughter.

Even the Bundren children ofAs I Lay Dying, whose

father is the only Faulknerian father capable of assimilating

into the New South, are doomed to the violence that plagues

these novels. Anse is analogous to Mr. Compson in that he

neglects his children, but Anse's disregard exists on such an

outrageous level that it is amazing his children even survive

the quest to bury their mother. The Bundren children's j ourney

through modernity is devastating. Even Anse's postbellum

selfishness will not save his children in the New South. By

the end of the novel, Dad has been locked away; Cash has

nearly lost his leg; and Vardaman's future appears troubled.

The fate of these children underscores the damage that Old

Southern values can inflict.

80 81 ,.­

There is also the problem of paternal identification.

As a part of the hypocritical social system that supported

slavery while simultaneously giving their children a strict,

Christian education, the Bundren family reflects the impact

of the Southern social system on the family. Bleikasten

explains that "ifmotherhood is a plain fact, a natural given of

experience, fatherhood, as Faulkner's novels suggest time and

again, is not" (Fathers 116). Before the novel ends, it is

revealed that Jewel is notAnse's biological son and that Dewey

Dell can offer the family a bastard but no legitimate heir. The

ambiguity ofthe father-child relationship plays a large role in

novels such as Light in August and Absalom, Absalom!

Chabrier points out that marriages, "often based on social and

financial considerations" (l02), make clear "an element of

opportunism that influences the sentiments between parents

and children" (102).

In the only passage that Addie is allowed to speak,

she makes it very clear that she married Anse not for love but

because he had "a house and a good farm" (Faulkner, AILD

171). Faulkner portrays the exact marriage of convenience

that Chabrier claims was characteristics of the hypocritical

Old South. This marriage of convenience spawns frequent

infidelities, such as the relationship between Addie and

Whitfield, which create problems in paternal identification

that lie at the core of Jewel's suffering. Jewel is unable to

agonize in silence, however, as he is forced to endure Dad's

continual insults: "Your mother was a horse, but who was

your father, Jewel?" (212). The anger that grows out of the

taunting between these competitive brothers is one of the

reasons that Jewel turns on Dad at the end of the novel and

proposes sending him off to the asylum at Jackson.

Joe Christmas ofLight in August also suffers from a

lack of paternal identification. The identity and race of his

father is never revealed to him, leaving Christmas with a hole

in hiE> identity that he is unable to fill. In Old Southern society

this presents Christmas with enormous problems because skin

color determines every aspect of life. Christmas spends his

entire life not knowing whether he is white or black.

80 81 ,.­

There is also the problem of paternal identification.

As a part of the hypocritical social system that supported

slavery while simultaneously giving their children a strict,

Christian education, the Bundren family reflects the impact

of the Southern social system on the family. Bleikasten

explains that "ifmotherhood is a plain fact, a natural given of

experience, fatherhood, as Faulkner's novels suggest time and

again, is not" (Fathers 116). Before the novel ends, it is

revealed that Jewel is notAnse's biological son and that Dewey

Dell can offer the family a bastard but no legitimate heir. The

ambiguity ofthe father-child relationship plays a large role in

novels such as Light in August and Absalom, Absalom!

Chabrier points out that marriages, "often based on social and

financial considerations" (l02), make clear "an element of

opportunism that influences the sentiments between parents

and children" (102).

In the only passage that Addie is allowed to speak,

she makes it very clear that she married Anse not for love but

because he had "a house and a good farm" (Faulkner, AILD

171). Faulkner portrays the exact marriage of convenience

that Chabrier claims was characteristics of the hypocritical

Old South. This marriage of convenience spawns frequent

infidelities, such as the relationship between Addie and

Whitfield, which create problems in paternal identification

that lie at the core of Jewel's suffering. Jewel is unable to

agonize in silence, however, as he is forced to endure Dad's

continual insults: "Your mother was a horse, but who was

your father, Jewel?" (212). The anger that grows out of the

taunting between these competitive brothers is one of the

reasons that Jewel turns on Dad at the end of the novel and

proposes sending him off to the asylum at Jackson.

Joe Christmas ofLight in August also suffers from a

lack of paternal identification. The identity and race of his

father is never revealed to him, leaving Christmas with a hole

in hiE> identity that he is unable to fill. In Old Southern society

this presents Christmas with enormous problems because skin

color determines every aspect of life. Christmas spends his

entire life not knowing whether he is white or black.

82

Faulkner's early works are filled with men like Jewel and

Christmas. Caddy Compson, Dewey Dell Bundren, and Lena

Grove all bear bastard children. This can be seen as evidence

that the hypocritical Southern culture contributed to the

destruction of the family and the Southern bloodline.

Each novel overwhelms the reader with families that

will not survive. The Compson family of The Sound and the

Fury is at the end ofits line. The reader is witness to the final

decline of Compson nobility, seeing their oldest son born an

idiot, their most promising son drowned by his own hand,

and their daughter fallen into the hands ofa Nazi. Faulkner

manages to assure us that the Compson line will end; their

time, like the Old South's, was destined to end.

Light in August, the last of Faulkner's great early

works, further complicates the destruction of the Southern

bloodline. Christmas, the primary character and son, is the

physical embodiment of mixed bloodlines whose death

effectively ends the family. Other characters that portray the

end of traditional Southern life are Joanna Burden and

83

Reverend Gail Hightower. Though they exist outside ofsociety,

both Joanna and Hightower "dramatize some essential aspect of

the rural South in the early decades of the twentieth century"

(Bleikasten, Fathers 130). Joanna, an obsessive abolitionist who

possesses an unhealthy fixation on the race of her lover Joe

Christmas, is characteristic ofthe sexual and racial desires that

permeated Southern culture. In addition, Hightower, whose life

was "a single instant ofdarkness in which a horse galloped and a

gun crashed" (Faulkner, LIA 491), is symbolic ofthe Southern

romanticism ofthe past. These two characters exist as extremes

on the boundaries ofsociety, yet they serve as representations of

the values that marked life in the South. Faulkner makes it very

clear that these values will live and die with these characters­

they will not be continuing the patriarchal bloodline. Joanna is a

childless spinster when she is murdered by Christmas, and

Hightower's wife has long been dead when the novel closes

with him lost in "the dying thunder of hooves" (493).

It is Light in August's Rosa Coldfield, however, that

perhaps best illustrates Faulkner's portrayal ofthe dying Southern

84

bloodline. The imagery invoked byher family name serves as an

accurate metaphor for the end ofthe Old Southern agrarian culture

and all ofits values. The-fields and the fathers that existed at the

center ofthe Southern social order have gone cold. The way of

life that revolved around the field, the plantation, and the father

ended with the Civil War.

85

Works Cited

Bleikasten, Andre. "Fathers in Faulkner." The Fictional Fa­

ther: Lacanian Readings o/the Text. Ed. Robert Davis.

Amherst: Dniv. of Mass Press, 1981. 115-46.

"Sutpen as Patriarch." Critical Essays on William

Faulkner: The Sutpen Family. Ed. Arthur F. Kinney.

Boston: Prentice Hall, 1996. 156-61.

Chabrier, Gwendolyn. Faulkner sFamilies: A Southern Saga.

New York: The Gordian Press, 1993.

Faulkner, William. Absalom, Absalom!. New York: Random

House, 1990.

As I Lay Dying. New York: Random House, 1990.

Faulkner in the University: Class Conferences at the

University o/Virginia. 1957-1958. Ed~ Joseph L.Blot­

ner and Frederick L. Gwynn. New York: University

of Virginia Press, 1959.

Light in August. New York: Random House, 1990.

The Sound and the Fury. New York: Norton, 1994.

84

bloodline. The imagery invoked byher family name serves as an

accurate metaphor for the end ofthe Old Southern agrarian culture

and all ofits values. The-fields and the fathers that existed at the

center ofthe Southern social order have gone cold. The way of

life that revolved around the field, the plantation, and the father

ended with the Civil War.

85

Works Cited

Bleikasten, Andre. "Fathers in Faulkner." The Fictional Fa­

ther: Lacanian Readings o/the Text. Ed. Robert Davis.

Amherst: Dniv. of Mass Press, 1981. 115-46.

"Sutpen as Patriarch." Critical Essays on William

Faulkner: The Sutpen Family. Ed. Arthur F. Kinney.

Boston: Prentice Hall, 1996. 156-61.

Chabrier, Gwendolyn. Faulkner sFamilies: A Southern Saga.

New York: The Gordian Press, 1993.

Faulkner, William. Absalom, Absalom!. New York: Random

House, 1990.

As I Lay Dying. New York: Random House, 1990.

Faulkner in the University: Class Conferences at the

University o/Virginia. 1957-1958. Ed~ Joseph L.Blot­

ner and Frederick L. Gwynn. New York: University

of Virginia Press, 1959.

Light in August. New York: Random House, 1990.

The Sound and the Fury. New York: Norton, 1994.

86

Appendix. The Sound and the Fury. By William

Faulkner. New York: Norton, 1994. 203-15.

Lensing, George S. "The Metaphor ofFamily in Absalom,

Absalom!." The Southern Review 11 (1975): 99-117.

Sartre, Jean-Paul. "On The Sound and the Fury: Time in the

Work ofWilliam Faulkner." The Sound and the Fury.

Ed. David Minter. New York: Norton, 1990.265-71.

Weinstein, Philip. What Else but Love? The Ordeal ofRace

in Faulkner and Morrison. New York: Columbia

University Press, 1996.

Woodward, C. Vann. Origins ofthe New South, 1877-1913.

Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1951.

Autobiography, Patriarchy, and Motherlessness in Frankenstein

Lynsey Griswold Fordham University

Bron.x, New York

The characters who populate Mary Shelley's

Frankenstein indicate the autobiographical nature ofthe book,

particularly in its stance on the motherless daughter. In a story

that reflects Shelley's own experience, daughters are always

motherless, like the monster around which the action revolves.

The motherless daughters in the story, much like Shelley

herself, are left open to the scorn, rejection, and

dehumanization which a culture raised by and for fathers heaps

upon them. Thus, by his circumvention of the mother and the

further undermining of the humanity of his motherless

creature, Victor Frankenstein is portrayed as the patriarch who

creates but cannot love and who fears sexual reproduction.

86

Appendix. The Sound and the Fury. By William

Faulkner. New York: Norton, 1994. 203-15.

Lensing, George S. "The Metaphor ofFamily in Absalom,

Absalom!." The Southern Review 11 (1975): 99-117.

Sartre, Jean-Paul. "On The Sound and the Fury: Time in the

Work ofWilliam Faulkner." The Sound and the Fury.

Ed. David Minter. New York: Norton, 1990.265-71.

Weinstein, Philip. What Else but Love? The Ordeal ofRace

in Faulkner and Morrison. New York: Columbia

University Press, 1996.

Woodward, C. Vann. Origins ofthe New South, 1877-1913.

Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1951.

Autobiography, Patriarchy, and Motherlessness in Frankenstein

Lynsey Griswold Fordham University

Bron.x, New York

The characters who populate Mary Shelley's

Frankenstein indicate the autobiographical nature ofthe book,

particularly in its stance on the motherless daughter. In a story

that reflects Shelley's own experience, daughters are always

motherless, like the monster around which the action revolves.

The motherless daughters in the story, much like Shelley

herself, are left open to the scorn, rejection, and

dehumanization which a culture raised by and for fathers heaps

upon them. Thus, by his circumvention of the mother and the

further undermining of the humanity of his motherless

creature, Victor Frankenstein is portrayed as the patriarch who

creates but cannot love and who fears sexual reproduction.

88

Shelley's own motherless, vulnerable life and her fear of

motherhood come through in her book, where almost every

character is a fictionalization of someone she knew. For

example, her husband, Percy Bysshe Shelley, often wrote

under the pseudonym of Victor, the name of her story's

protagonist. Percy had a sister named Elizabeth, with whom

he shared a "passionately loving attachment," while Victor

Frankenstein and his cousin/sister Elizabeth have a barely un­

incestuous relationship in the book (Hill-Miller 61). More

importantly to my purposes, however, is that Shelley'S mother,

the great feminist writer MaryWollstonecraft, who authored The

Rights ofWomen, a bleak look at the prospects ofmotherhood

in England's patriarchal society, died only eleven days after giving

birth to her own daughter. Wollstonecraft's death created in Mary

Shelley a lifelong guilt and a vision ofmotherhood as a fatal

endeavor. Her father, the philosopher William Godwin, was also

a famous author. Along with her husband he is reflected in the

character of Victor Frankenstein, who creates a motherless

creature but abandons it as soon as it comes to life. Similarly,

89

Godwin abandoned his daughter when she made an autonomous

decision and eloped with Percy Shelley. During her period of

estrangement from her father, Shelley gave birth to 1\vo children,

bothofwhom died afterward. The deathsofher children furthered

Shelley's interpretation ofmotherhood as a thing to be feared-to

her mind, motherhood couldnot succeed either for its children or

its mothers. Thus, in her 1831 introduction ofthe book, Shelley

called it her "hideous progeny," her creation in the place ofa child

(Shelley, Frankenstein 912).

This terror of motherhood, and its implications to its

unfortunate products, is shown frighteningly in Frankenstein,

where every daughter is without a mother and is frequently

also the cause of her mother's death. Victor's cousin

Elizabeth's mother dies early on; she is adopted by the

Frankenstein family and becomes a sister to Victor. She

transmits scarlet fever to her adopted mother, whose death

Victor calls an "irreparable evil," and from which he never

seems to fully recover (927). Justine, a favorite servant of the

Frankensteins, becomes apermanent part ofthe family when her

88

Shelley's own motherless, vulnerable life and her fear of

motherhood come through in her book, where almost every

character is a fictionalization of someone she knew. For

example, her husband, Percy Bysshe Shelley, often wrote

under the pseudonym of Victor, the name of her story's

protagonist. Percy had a sister named Elizabeth, with whom

he shared a "passionately loving attachment," while Victor

Frankenstein and his cousin/sister Elizabeth have a barely un­

incestuous relationship in the book (Hill-Miller 61). More

importantly to my purposes, however, is that Shelley'S mother,

the great feminist writer MaryWollstonecraft, who authored The

Rights ofWomen, a bleak look at the prospects ofmotherhood

in England's patriarchal society, died only eleven days after giving

birth to her own daughter. Wollstonecraft's death created in Mary

Shelley a lifelong guilt and a vision ofmotherhood as a fatal

endeavor. Her father, the philosopher William Godwin, was also

a famous author. Along with her husband he is reflected in the

character of Victor Frankenstein, who creates a motherless

creature but abandons it as soon as it comes to life. Similarly,

89

Godwin abandoned his daughter when she made an autonomous

decision and eloped with Percy Shelley. During her period of

estrangement from her father, Shelley gave birth to 1\vo children,

bothofwhom died afterward. The deathsofher children furthered

Shelley's interpretation ofmotherhood as a thing to be feared-to

her mind, motherhood couldnot succeed either for its children or

its mothers. Thus, in her 1831 introduction ofthe book, Shelley

called it her "hideous progeny," her creation in the place ofa child

(Shelley, Frankenstein 912).

This terror of motherhood, and its implications to its

unfortunate products, is shown frighteningly in Frankenstein,

where every daughter is without a mother and is frequently

also the cause of her mother's death. Victor's cousin

Elizabeth's mother dies early on; she is adopted by the

Frankenstein family and becomes a sister to Victor. She

transmits scarlet fever to her adopted mother, whose death

Victor calls an "irreparable evil," and from which he never

seems to fully recover (927). Justine, a favorite servant of the

Frankensteins, becomes apermanent part ofthe family when her

90 91

mother dies, and shebecomes "like amost affectionate mother"

(951 )to the youngest child, Edward. Even the minor characters

oftheArabian girl Safie and the young girlAgathawith whom she

lives are motherless.

All these daughters without mothers become victms of

abandonment by patriarchal figures and to the inevitable death

that surrounds females who involve themselves with mothering.

Elizabeth's father simply decides, upon remarriage, that he does

not want her anymore. She finds a home with the Frankensteins,

but her marriage to Victor and potential motherhoodofhis children

prove fatal. Justine is executed for the murder ofthe boy to whom

she was a foster mother. Safie's father uses her beauty to secure

escape from prisonwith help from Felix and then refuses to let her

manyhim.

Seeing that all the othermotherless characters in the book

who are subject to death and patriarchal rejection are daughter

and that Shelleyherselfwas abandonedbyher father, Frankenstein's

creation maybe read as an extension ofthis theme, and even as

Shelleyherself. Althoughhe is male, his characterhas muchmore

in common with the story's daughters than with its fathers and

sons.

To cement this reading ofthe monster as Shelley and a

daughter, one must look again at the relationship betweenVictor's

rejection ofhis creation and William Godwin's abandonment of

Mal)'Shelley. BothVictor and Godwin delighted intheir motherless

creations until themomentofrealization that these daughter figures

were capable of autonomy. Shelley's decision to use her

reproductive powers outside ofwedlock reminded her father that

she was not merely a creation overwhich he could wield power,

much as the animation ofVictor's creation makes him realize that

the monster can and will have powers ofits own.

Given this feminine reading ofthe creature, his experiences

are illustrations ofevery daughter's vulnerable existence without a

mother. He is chased from human society, denied a parental

relationship, and generally dehumanizedby the patriarchy which

gave him birth. Just as Victor dotes on the motherless Elizabeth,

90 91

mother dies, and shebecomes "like amost affectionate mother"

(951 )to the youngest child, Edward. Even the minor characters

oftheArabian girl Safie and the young girlAgathawith whom she

lives are motherless.

All these daughters without mothers become victms of

abandonment by patriarchal figures and to the inevitable death

that surrounds females who involve themselves with mothering.

Elizabeth's father simply decides, upon remarriage, that he does

not want her anymore. She finds a home with the Frankensteins,

but her marriage to Victor and potential motherhoodofhis children

prove fatal. Justine is executed for the murder ofthe boy to whom

she was a foster mother. Safie's father uses her beauty to secure

escape from prisonwith help from Felix and then refuses to let her

manyhim.

Seeing that all the othermotherless characters in the book

who are subject to death and patriarchal rejection are daughter

and that Shelleyherselfwas abandonedbyher father, Frankenstein's

creation maybe read as an extension ofthis theme, and even as

Shelleyherself. Althoughhe is male, his characterhas muchmore

in common with the story's daughters than with its fathers and

sons.

To cement this reading ofthe monster as Shelley and a

daughter, one must look again at the relationship betweenVictor's

rejection ofhis creation and William Godwin's abandonment of

Mal)'Shelley. BothVictor and Godwin delighted intheir motherless

creations until themomentofrealization that these daughter figures

were capable of autonomy. Shelley's decision to use her

reproductive powers outside ofwedlock reminded her father that

she was not merely a creation overwhich he could wield power,

much as the animation ofVictor's creation makes him realize that

the monster can and will have powers ofits own.

Given this feminine reading ofthe creature, his experiences

are illustrations ofevery daughter's vulnerable existence without a

mother. He is chased from human society, denied a parental

relationship, and generally dehumanizedby the patriarchy which

gave him birth. Just as Victor dotes on the motherless Elizabeth,

92 93

not as a friend or lovedonebut as a"mvorite animal"or a"summer

insect," the creature is dehumanized in all his interactions with

mankind (923). The unnaturalness ofthe monster's creation is

reflected in his frightful appearance and further capitalized upon

by an unfeeling patriarchal culture, represented first byhis creator

Victor. At his animation, Victor recoils from him and refers to him

as an "animal,"just as he did Elizabeth (946).

As the creature comes to a more human understanding,

he teaches himselflanguage and compassion while watching the

DeLacey family and hopes to become a part ofhumanity despite

his maker's abandonment. He realizes that his motherless state

and his father's rejection leave him vulnerable to becoming less

than human: "(N)o mother had blessed me with smiles and

caresses....What was I?" (973 emphasis added.) Later the

creature recalls his loneliness with no parent to soothe him, asking,

"Where was [my creator]? "(H)e had abandoned me, and, in the

bitterness ofmy heart, I cursed him" (979). This last comment

seals the creature's fate. He begins a downward spiral ofbowing

..,....

to the hatred ofhumanity, responding by becoming the very

monster they want him to be. When the DeLacey family leaves

him in fear, he roams the forest, howling "like awild beast," and

decides to wage "everlasting war against the [human] species"

that created and then rejected him (982).

Victor Frankenstein's place in the cycle ofmotherlessness

and its subsequent dehumanization becomes very clear in his

treatment ofthe creature. He first createshimwith the full intention

of making the mother's role in creation obsolete but then,

predictably, rejects him as an unnatural monster. His act ofcreation

is dehumanizing, he replaces the mother's role in procreation

with science, and then calls his creation an inhuman monster for

the very unnaturalness he bestowed upon it. His actions perpetuate

the system that kills its mothers and dehumanizes its daughters,

thus forcing his creation into becoming the monstrosityhe fears.

Victor's attitude toward natural procreation is one offear

and disgust, making creationwithout the act ofsex appealing. His

revulsion maystem from his family's tendency toward incestuous

I l

92 93

not as a friend or lovedonebut as a"mvorite animal"or a"summer

insect," the creature is dehumanized in all his interactions with

mankind (923). The unnaturalness ofthe monster's creation is

reflected in his frightful appearance and further capitalized upon

by an unfeeling patriarchal culture, represented first byhis creator

Victor. At his animation, Victor recoils from him and refers to him

as an "animal,"just as he did Elizabeth (946).

As the creature comes to a more human understanding,

he teaches himselflanguage and compassion while watching the

DeLacey family and hopes to become a part ofhumanity despite

his maker's abandonment. He realizes that his motherless state

and his father's rejection leave him vulnerable to becoming less

than human: "(N)o mother had blessed me with smiles and

caresses....What was I?" (973 emphasis added.) Later the

creature recalls his loneliness with no parent to soothe him, asking,

"Where was [my creator]? "(H)e had abandoned me, and, in the

bitterness ofmy heart, I cursed him" (979). This last comment

seals the creature's fate. He begins a downward spiral ofbowing

..,....

to the hatred ofhumanity, responding by becoming the very

monster they want him to be. When the DeLacey family leaves

him in fear, he roams the forest, howling "like awild beast," and

decides to wage "everlasting war against the [human] species"

that created and then rejected him (982).

Victor Frankenstein's place in the cycle ofmotherlessness

and its subsequent dehumanization becomes very clear in his

treatment ofthe creature. He first createshimwith the full intention

of making the mother's role in creation obsolete but then,

predictably, rejects him as an unnatural monster. His act ofcreation

is dehumanizing, he replaces the mother's role in procreation

with science, and then calls his creation an inhuman monster for

the very unnaturalness he bestowed upon it. His actions perpetuate

the system that kills its mothers and dehumanizes its daughters,

thus forcing his creation into becoming the monstrosityhe fears.

Victor's attitude toward natural procreation is one offear

and disgust, making creationwithout the act ofsex appealing. His

revulsion maystem from his family's tendency toward incestuous

I l

95 94

relationships and its extremelypatriarchalhistory-bis father married

the daughter ofone ofhis closest friends after having taken her in

as a daughter. When he married, he did so out of a sense of

obligation to "bestow[...] upon the state sons" (921). Thus, in

Victor's birth there was a hint ofincest and an entirelypatemal

desire to create sons, void ofromance or regard for the mother,

who was reduced to a mere carrier. When Victor gets older, he is

betrothed to Elizabeth, the fIrst cousin who has been a sister to

him throughout his childhood. On her deathbed, Victor's mother

calls them both "mychildren" (927) and then immediatelybegs

the'siblings' to marry. After this fIrst implication ofincest, she

f II

goes on to ask Elizabeth to "supply [her] place"(927) to the

children, thus making Elizabeth acousin, sister, and even mother

to Victor.

Given these incestuous implications and his father's

unromantic marriage, Victor's distaste for sex is unsurprising.

In his descriptions of Elizabeth, his "affection" is repeatedly

stated, but nowhere is there a hint of passion or romantic

interest. For example, Victor says that he loves his "brothers,

I

Elizabeth, and Clerval," (928), putting his feelings for Elizabeth in

the same vein as fratemallove for his brothers and friendly (albeit

borderline homosexual) love for Henry Clerval, his best friend. In

fact, throughout the novel, his sentiments regarding Clerval are

decidedlymore romantic-sounding than his feelings for Elizabeth.

He describes Clerval as "beloved" and"divinelywrought" (994)

shortly after assuring his father that he loves Elizabeth "tenderly

and sincerely" with "admiration and affection" (991).

Regardless ofwhether his real romantic interests lie in

Clerval, however, Victor seems to redirect his heterosexual desire

with the creation ofhis monster, which he describes in highly

sexualized language. In the search for dead tissue, he looks in the

"unhallowed damps" of the earth, and with "unrelaxed and

breathless eagerness [...] pursue[s] nature to her hidden places."

His construction ofthe creature he calls his "midnight labors,"

which heworks at with"mrrernitting ardor," "aresistless, and almost

frantic impulse," and "an eagerness whichperpetuallyincrease[s]"

(933). When at last he arrives at ''the consummation of[his] toils,"

the animating process is described as orgasmic, both for him and

95 94

relationships and its extremelypatriarchalhistory-bis father married

the daughter ofone ofhis closest friends after having taken her in

as a daughter. When he married, he did so out of a sense of

obligation to "bestow[...] upon the state sons" (921). Thus, in

Victor's birth there was a hint ofincest and an entirelypatemal

desire to create sons, void ofromance or regard for the mother,

who was reduced to a mere carrier. When Victor gets older, he is

betrothed to Elizabeth, the fIrst cousin who has been a sister to

him throughout his childhood. On her deathbed, Victor's mother

calls them both "mychildren" (927) and then immediatelybegs

the'siblings' to marry. After this fIrst implication ofincest, she

f II

goes on to ask Elizabeth to "supply [her] place"(927) to the

children, thus making Elizabeth acousin, sister, and even mother

to Victor.

Given these incestuous implications and his father's

unromantic marriage, Victor's distaste for sex is unsurprising.

In his descriptions of Elizabeth, his "affection" is repeatedly

stated, but nowhere is there a hint of passion or romantic

interest. For example, Victor says that he loves his "brothers,

I

Elizabeth, and Clerval," (928), putting his feelings for Elizabeth in

the same vein as fratemallove for his brothers and friendly (albeit

borderline homosexual) love for Henry Clerval, his best friend. In

fact, throughout the novel, his sentiments regarding Clerval are

decidedlymore romantic-sounding than his feelings for Elizabeth.

He describes Clerval as "beloved" and"divinelywrought" (994)

shortly after assuring his father that he loves Elizabeth "tenderly

and sincerely" with "admiration and affection" (991).

Regardless ofwhether his real romantic interests lie in

Clerval, however, Victor seems to redirect his heterosexual desire

with the creation ofhis monster, which he describes in highly

sexualized language. In the search for dead tissue, he looks in the

"unhallowed damps" of the earth, and with "unrelaxed and

breathless eagerness [...] pursue[s] nature to her hidden places."

His construction ofthe creature he calls his "midnight labors,"

which heworks at with"mrrernitting ardor," "aresistless, and almost

frantic impulse," and "an eagerness whichperpetuallyincrease[s]"

(933). When at last he arrives at ''the consummation of[his] toils,"

the animating process is described as orgasmic, both for him and

96 97

the creature (932). "With an anxiety that almost amount[s] to

agony," Victor watches the creature "breathe hard, and a

convulsive motion agitateits limbs" (934). This description isalmost

that ofmasturbation; Victor, alone in his secluded tower, works

himselfinto a sexualized frenzy to gratify his creative powers

without a woman. When the creature's body convulses,

Victor's horror at his actions is apparent: "I had desired it

with an ardor that far exceeded moderation, but now that I

had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished" (935).

Once he has created his monster, he realizes the

abomination ofhis product. The "wretch," as he calls it upon

its birth, is his creation and his alone. He has no female

counterpart with whom he can jointly control it, and the

autonomy of his unnatural, motherless creature frightens and

dismays him. He runs from it and sleeps away his cares, only

to dream a prophetic dream. In his sleep he sees "Elizabeth,

in the bloom ofhealth" and takes her into his arms to kiss her.

However, at the moment ofphysical contact, he beholds that

he is in fact kissing "the corpse of[his] dead mother," and upon

waking is confronted by the newly animated monster. His dream

is a shortened version ofthe entire story ofthe book his fear of

physical sexualitywith his sister/mother (Elizabeth) betrays his fear

ofincest (shown by an intimate embrace with his mother), which

in tum pushes him to create a monster without a mother-thus

invalidating the role ofthe mother, as symbolizedbythe corpse in

his dream.

Victor's aversion to heterosexual sex and his subsequent

destruction ofmotherhood is again brought to light when he tears

apart the female creature he was making for his original monster.

He toils for months on her creation, but when he realizes that he

is effectivelyproviding the creature with asexualpartnerwith whom

he could produce a" race ofdevils," destroys her (1000).

This scene is important to all the themes being discussed

here. Ofcourse, Victor's fear ofsex is again stated, but his actions

are also paradoxical in regards to his attitude toward patriarchy

and motherhood. While he destroys the female creature to keep

her from becoming a mother and thus perpetuating the cycle of

96 97

the creature (932). "With an anxiety that almost amount[s] to

agony," Victor watches the creature "breathe hard, and a

convulsive motion agitateits limbs" (934). This description isalmost

that ofmasturbation; Victor, alone in his secluded tower, works

himselfinto a sexualized frenzy to gratify his creative powers

without a woman. When the creature's body convulses,

Victor's horror at his actions is apparent: "I had desired it

with an ardor that far exceeded moderation, but now that I

had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished" (935).

Once he has created his monster, he realizes the

abomination ofhis product. The "wretch," as he calls it upon

its birth, is his creation and his alone. He has no female

counterpart with whom he can jointly control it, and the

autonomy of his unnatural, motherless creature frightens and

dismays him. He runs from it and sleeps away his cares, only

to dream a prophetic dream. In his sleep he sees "Elizabeth,

in the bloom ofhealth" and takes her into his arms to kiss her.

However, at the moment ofphysical contact, he beholds that

he is in fact kissing "the corpse of[his] dead mother," and upon

waking is confronted by the newly animated monster. His dream

is a shortened version ofthe entire story ofthe book his fear of

physical sexualitywith his sister/mother (Elizabeth) betrays his fear

ofincest (shown by an intimate embrace with his mother), which

in tum pushes him to create a monster without a mother-thus

invalidating the role ofthe mother, as symbolizedbythe corpse in

his dream.

Victor's aversion to heterosexual sex and his subsequent

destruction ofmotherhood is again brought to light when he tears

apart the female creature he was making for his original monster.

He toils for months on her creation, but when he realizes that he

is effectivelyproviding the creature with asexualpartnerwith whom

he could produce a" race ofdevils," destroys her (1000).

This scene is important to all the themes being discussed

here. Ofcourse, Victor's fear ofsex is again stated, but his actions

are also paradoxical in regards to his attitude toward patriarchy

and motherhood. While he destroys the female creature to keep

her from becoming a mother and thus perpetuating the cycle of

98

motherlessness, he is also strangelyputting an end to that very

cycle. Were he to imbue her with life, she would be another

motherless creature, spumed bysociety ifshe chose mankind over

her mate. Rather than adding another wretch to the ranks of

dehumanized motherless daughters, he chooses not to give her

life at all.

This reading may seem a bit ofa stretch, but take into

consideration that it is only after Victor destroys the female

creature, ending the cycle ofmotherlessness, that he begins to

show any real romantic interest in Elizabeth. In his newfound

passion for a heterosexual relationship, he seems to be further

distancing himself from the motherless cycle he had once

championed. When the monster vows that he "will be there on

[Victor's] wedding-night" (again replacing the sex act with his

presence), Victor misinterprets his words to mean that he will be

murdered, and his onlycompunction overthis idea is that he would

leave his "beloved Elizabeth" bereaved (1001). Here is the first

incidence ofthe word "beloved" in signifying Elizabeth instead of

99

Clerval. After Clerval's death (which mighthave added some fuel

to Victor's passion, with his homosexual love gone-but that is for

another essay), Victor finally begins to "love Elizabeth, and look

forward" to his union with her (l 014). His fear ofsex and incest

appears to be gone, and his desire to prevent motherhood

abandoned.

For all his refonns, Victor is doomed to live out his

original dream of a motherless creation story. When the fated

night arrives, the monster kills Elizabeth instead ofVictor, and by

doing so closes the cycle ofmotherlessness that his birth started.

By killing the woman who might have someday borne Victor's

natural children, his unnatural, motherless child truly becomes both

the monster his father abhorred and the product ofa patriarchy

that Victor continued. Elizabethwas Victor's onlyhope ofbreaking

the cycle he had perpetuated, and in her death the smaller cycle of

motherlessness, dehumanization, and ultimate patriarchal power

that he began with his monster's construction is complete. The

monster's murder ofElizabethperpetuates the trend ofdaughters

98

motherlessness, he is also strangelyputting an end to that very

cycle. Were he to imbue her with life, she would be another

motherless creature, spumed bysociety ifshe chose mankind over

her mate. Rather than adding another wretch to the ranks of

dehumanized motherless daughters, he chooses not to give her

life at all.

This reading may seem a bit ofa stretch, but take into

consideration that it is only after Victor destroys the female

creature, ending the cycle ofmotherlessness, that he begins to

show any real romantic interest in Elizabeth. In his newfound

passion for a heterosexual relationship, he seems to be further

distancing himself from the motherless cycle he had once

championed. When the monster vows that he "will be there on

[Victor's] wedding-night" (again replacing the sex act with his

presence), Victor misinterprets his words to mean that he will be

murdered, and his onlycompunction overthis idea is that he would

leave his "beloved Elizabeth" bereaved (1001). Here is the first

incidence ofthe word "beloved" in signifying Elizabeth instead of

99

Clerval. After Clerval's death (which mighthave added some fuel

to Victor's passion, with his homosexual love gone-but that is for

another essay), Victor finally begins to "love Elizabeth, and look

forward" to his union with her (l 014). His fear ofsex and incest

appears to be gone, and his desire to prevent motherhood

abandoned.

For all his refonns, Victor is doomed to live out his

original dream of a motherless creation story. When the fated

night arrives, the monster kills Elizabeth instead ofVictor, and by

doing so closes the cycle ofmotherlessness that his birth started.

By killing the woman who might have someday borne Victor's

natural children, his unnatural, motherless child truly becomes both

the monster his father abhorred and the product ofa patriarchy

that Victor continued. Elizabethwas Victor's onlyhope ofbreaking

the cycle he had perpetuated, and in her death the smaller cycle of

motherlessness, dehumanization, and ultimate patriarchal power

that he began with his monster's construction is complete. The

monster's murder ofElizabethperpetuates the trend ofdaughters

-

100 101

killing theirmothers in that Elizabethcould have been his mother if

he had been a natural born child.

Thus Shelleybrings the reader to herpoint. Her life Iived

as amotherless child ofapatriarch and her experience as a failed

mother left her open to all sorts of fears about motherhood. She

felt that she was a spumedcreation ofa society in which mothers

cannot survive due to the repression oftheir natural reproductive

powers and where daughters have no control over their own

humanity once they have caused their mothers' deaths.

Frankenstein is a truly despairing novel about the nature of a

society that lets its daughters become monsters rather than

esteemed citizens and serves as a warning to those who would try

to keep mothers out ofcreation. Mary Shelley's experience, told

through the "dull yellow eye" ofthe creature, left her with little

hope for her future as amotheror for her children's lives after her

death.

Works Cited

Hill-Miller, Katherine C. 'My Hideous Progeny': Mary Shelley,

William Godwin, and the Father-Daughter

Relationship. Newark: University ofDelaware Press,

1995.59-100.

Shelley, Mary. "Frankenstein." The Norton Anthology ofEnglish

Literature. 7th ed. Vol 2A. Eds. M. H. Abrams. et al.

New York: Norton, 2000.912-1034.

-. "Author's Introduction [1831]." Abrams 908-912.

-

100 101

killing theirmothers in that Elizabethcould have been his mother if

he had been a natural born child.

Thus Shelleybrings the reader to herpoint. Her life Iived

as amotherless child ofapatriarch and her experience as a failed

mother left her open to all sorts of fears about motherhood. She

felt that she was a spumedcreation ofa society in which mothers

cannot survive due to the repression oftheir natural reproductive

powers and where daughters have no control over their own

humanity once they have caused their mothers' deaths.

Frankenstein is a truly despairing novel about the nature of a

society that lets its daughters become monsters rather than

esteemed citizens and serves as a warning to those who would try

to keep mothers out ofcreation. Mary Shelley's experience, told

through the "dull yellow eye" ofthe creature, left her with little

hope for her future as amotheror for her children's lives after her

death.

Works Cited

Hill-Miller, Katherine C. 'My Hideous Progeny': Mary Shelley,

William Godwin, and the Father-Daughter

Relationship. Newark: University ofDelaware Press,

1995.59-100.

Shelley, Mary. "Frankenstein." The Norton Anthology ofEnglish

Literature. 7th ed. Vol 2A. Eds. M. H. Abrams. et al.

New York: Norton, 2000.912-1034.

-. "Author's Introduction [1831]." Abrams 908-912.

102 T

To William Godwin

Matthew Querino Framingham State College

Framingham, Massachusetts

In 1987, Professor Betty T. Bennett discovered twelve

letters written by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley to her cousin

Elizabeth Berry in the manuscript archives of the Mitchell

State Library in Sydney, Australia (Mitgang 29). These letters

reveal that Mary Shelley did not share the radical political

views ofher father, William Godwin. So why did she dedicate

her novel, Frankenstein (1818), to her father - author of

Political Justice and Caleb Williams - if she was opposed to

the political ideologies expressed in his works? Beginning

with her dedication, Mary Shelley used Frankenstein to

covertly express her own political views and to warn Godwin

and his poetic disciples that their revolutionary writings could

102 T

To William Godwin

Matthew Querino Framingham State College

Framingham, Massachusetts

In 1987, Professor Betty T. Bennett discovered twelve

letters written by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley to her cousin

Elizabeth Berry in the manuscript archives of the Mitchell

State Library in Sydney, Australia (Mitgang 29). These letters

reveal that Mary Shelley did not share the radical political

views ofher father, William Godwin. So why did she dedicate

her novel, Frankenstein (1818), to her father - author of

Political Justice and Caleb Williams - if she was opposed to

the political ideologies expressed in his works? Beginning

with her dedication, Mary Shelley used Frankenstein to

covertly express her own political views and to warn Godwin

and his poetic disciples that their revolutionary writings could

104

have dire consequences for their readers and for themselves. Their

ambitious stance in challenging the religious, political, and social

conventions ofthe day later cursed these writers with guilt and

regret as the horrors ofthe period's manyuprisings became more

widelyknown. VictorFrankenstein's tale was being told to William

Godwin and theRomantic poets who were following inhis footsteps

in the hope that they would see in Victor many oftheir own traits

and learn from his mistakes.

The Romantic period was a time ofaccelerating change.

It began with the revolutions inAmerica and France and ended

with the reform ofEngland 's Parliament (Damrosch 3). Amidst

the social turmoil, William Godwin resigned from the ministry in

1782 and became an atheist. He switched his focus from religion

to politics and became "a spokesperson for political radicalism"

(Smith 7). Professor Kelvin Everest explains that the Romantic

revolt was "a revolt in a more thorough going sense, against the

very existence ofdominating shared standards and conventions"

(2). Laura K. Egendorfadds that the Romantics used theirwriting

to, "break loose from the chains ofmodem society and explore

r 105

the idealized worlds that they created in their mind" (15). Thus,

they gave voices to masses ofpeople in the lower and middle

classes who resented the unjust social, political, and economic

privileges associated with the traditional monarchy and class

structure. Inhis Marxist reading ofFrankenstein, Warren Montag

describes the mobs ofpeople mobilized to fight for the French

Revolution as "a monster that, once unleashed could not be

controlled" (386). This "monster" was the masses that fought

and died for theRomantics' "idealizedworlds" during the period's

manyviolent uprisings that beganwith theFrenchRevolution and

culminated with England's "Great Reform Bill" of1832 (Everest

2).

In their reaching for political and social change, the poets

and writers ofthe period had indeed created a monster. The mobs

were fed on the Romantics' works as propaganda; these masses

dreamed oflibertyand equal rights for all, but instead ofa glorious

revolution, France found itselfin a period ofchaos and tyranny.

Mary Shelley distanced herself from the radical views ofher

father's literary circle because she was not as interested in

104

have dire consequences for their readers and for themselves. Their

ambitious stance in challenging the religious, political, and social

conventions ofthe day later cursed these writers with guilt and

regret as the horrors ofthe period's manyuprisings became more

widelyknown. VictorFrankenstein's tale was being told to William

Godwin and theRomantic poets who were following inhis footsteps

in the hope that they would see in Victor many oftheir own traits

and learn from his mistakes.

The Romantic period was a time ofaccelerating change.

It began with the revolutions inAmerica and France and ended

with the reform ofEngland 's Parliament (Damrosch 3). Amidst

the social turmoil, William Godwin resigned from the ministry in

1782 and became an atheist. He switched his focus from religion

to politics and became "a spokesperson for political radicalism"

(Smith 7). Professor Kelvin Everest explains that the Romantic

revolt was "a revolt in a more thorough going sense, against the

very existence ofdominating shared standards and conventions"

(2). Laura K. Egendorfadds that the Romantics used theirwriting

to, "break loose from the chains ofmodem society and explore

r 105

the idealized worlds that they created in their mind" (15). Thus,

they gave voices to masses ofpeople in the lower and middle

classes who resented the unjust social, political, and economic

privileges associated with the traditional monarchy and class

structure. Inhis Marxist reading ofFrankenstein, Warren Montag

describes the mobs ofpeople mobilized to fight for the French

Revolution as "a monster that, once unleashed could not be

controlled" (386). This "monster" was the masses that fought

and died for theRomantics' "idealizedworlds" during the period's

manyviolent uprisings that beganwith theFrenchRevolution and

culminated with England's "Great Reform Bill" of1832 (Everest

2).

In their reaching for political and social change, the poets

and writers ofthe period had indeed created a monster. The mobs

were fed on the Romantics' works as propaganda; these masses

dreamed oflibertyand equal rights for all, but instead ofa glorious

revolution, France found itselfin a period ofchaos and tyranny.

Mary Shelley distanced herself from the radical views ofher

father's literary circle because she was not as interested in

106

"revolution and creatingnew worlds" as she was in improvingthe

existing social structure (Egendorf20).

Mary Shelleyused both Victor Frankenstein and Robert

Walton to warn her readers about the dangers ofambition. She

designed Frankenstein so that Victor is thenovel's primarynarrator

and Walton, who listens to his story, takes the place ofthe reader.

Like Walton, the reader is meant to learn something from this

cautionary tale. The readers of 1818 that could learn the most

from Victor's tale were the second wave ofRomantic poets,

particularlyMary's husband, the renowned poet Percy Bysshe

Shelley. In one ofhis first letters to his sister, Walton describes

how passionate Victor is inrelayinghis story: "I [Walton] paused;

- at length he [Victor] spoke, in broken accents: - 'Unhappy

man! Do you share my madness? Have you drank also of the

intoxicating draught? Hear me, -let me reveal my tale, and you

will dash the cup from your lips!'" (38). Similarly, Frances Winwar

describes Godwin as being, "intoxicated with his dream of

perfection: The time would come, hailed Godwin, ...when

there should be no ignorance, no inequality, no distinctions ofsex,

no death!" (4). Godwin and Victor are both intoxicated by their

quest to improvehumanitythroughnew theologies. They also share

the same dream to rid the world ofdeath although Godwin means

preventable deaths from the hands oftyranny and oppression while

Victorplans literally to rid the world ofdeath byusing the scientific

secret he has discovered. The similarities between these two

revolutionaries are remarkable. Biographer Emily Sunstein

comments on this resemblance:

[Progressives] considered Godwin an immortal

martyred leader ofthe great cause that would rise

again. Granting his lack of cornmon sense in

Political Justice, they compared him to a great,

if failed, explorer on humanity's behalf - a

Promethean paradigm that Mary would

immortalize in her scientist, Frankenstein

[emphasis added], whose confidant, Walton, is a

polar explorer. (20)

Walton seems destined to follow in Victor's footsteps, just as

Percyand the second wave ofRomantic writers seem destined to

106

"revolution and creatingnew worlds" as she was in improvingthe

existing social structure (Egendorf20).

Mary Shelleyused both Victor Frankenstein and Robert

Walton to warn her readers about the dangers ofambition. She

designed Frankenstein so that Victor is thenovel's primarynarrator

and Walton, who listens to his story, takes the place ofthe reader.

Like Walton, the reader is meant to learn something from this

cautionary tale. The readers of 1818 that could learn the most

from Victor's tale were the second wave ofRomantic poets,

particularlyMary's husband, the renowned poet Percy Bysshe

Shelley. In one ofhis first letters to his sister, Walton describes

how passionate Victor is inrelayinghis story: "I [Walton] paused;

- at length he [Victor] spoke, in broken accents: - 'Unhappy

man! Do you share my madness? Have you drank also of the

intoxicating draught? Hear me, -let me reveal my tale, and you

will dash the cup from your lips!'" (38). Similarly, Frances Winwar

describes Godwin as being, "intoxicated with his dream of

perfection: The time would come, hailed Godwin, ...when

there should be no ignorance, no inequality, no distinctions ofsex,

no death!" (4). Godwin and Victor are both intoxicated by their

quest to improvehumanitythroughnew theologies. They also share

the same dream to rid the world ofdeath although Godwin means

preventable deaths from the hands oftyranny and oppression while

Victorplans literally to rid the world ofdeath byusing the scientific

secret he has discovered. The similarities between these two

revolutionaries are remarkable. Biographer Emily Sunstein

comments on this resemblance:

[Progressives] considered Godwin an immortal

martyred leader ofthe great cause that would rise

again. Granting his lack of cornmon sense in

Political Justice, they compared him to a great,

if failed, explorer on humanity's behalf - a

Promethean paradigm that Mary would

immortalize in her scientist, Frankenstein

[emphasis added], whose confidant, Walton, is a

polar explorer. (20)

Walton seems destined to follow in Victor's footsteps, just as

Percyand the second wave ofRomantic writers seem destined to

108 109

follow in Godwin's footsteps. Ironically, earlyreviews ofthe book

place its themes amongtheworks oftheveryradicals MaryShelley

was trying to warn.

When Frankenstein was published in 1818, the novel

was presumed to be a contribution to the debate on national

religion that William Godwin and his followers had provoked

in the 1790's. Because Mary Shelley originally published

Frankenstein anonymously, many people suspected that her

husband was the novel's architect. Sir Walter Scott wrote an

enthusiastic early review of the novel in Blackwood's

Edinburgh Magazine (March 1818) that "established

Frankenstein's 'stature' and novelty on 'supernatural' fiction,

and the author's 'original genius.' Scott, like most people,

assumed that [Percy] Shelley had written Frankenstein"

(Sunstein 156). The novel's dedication to Godwin led many

early critics to detect immorality and impiety in its pages. An

anonymous author from Edinburgh Magazine confidently states:

It [Frankenstein] is formed on the Godwinian

manner, and has all the faults, but many likewise

ofthe beauties ofthat model. In dark and gloomy

views ofnature and ofman, bordering too closely

on impiety,- in the most outrageous improbability,

- in sacrificing everything to effect, - it even goes

beyond its great prototype.... (249)

Radicalism, impiety, immorality, andthe"Godwinianmanner',were

all associated with the novel in its earlyreviews.

The mystery ofthe author's identity did not endure for

very long. To correct the misconception that Percywas the author,

Marywroteabriefnote to Scott taking responsibilityfor the novel.

Bennetthighlights the wittiness ofthis young author: "Marywrote

a letter thanking him for his kindness about her book" (Mitgang

29). Word traveled fast that the author ofFrankenstein was not

only a young woman but the daughter ofradical feminist Mary

Wollstonecraft and William Godwin (Smith 4; Sunstein 156).

Critics and contemporary readers were lost in the intricacies of

Mary's design. Searching for her father's and husband's radical

ideals in the novel, theyfailed to see one ofits fundamental themes.

Frankenstein is Mary Shelley's own Romantic revolt against her

108 109

follow in Godwin's footsteps. Ironically, earlyreviews ofthe book

place its themes amongtheworks oftheveryradicals MaryShelley

was trying to warn.

When Frankenstein was published in 1818, the novel

was presumed to be a contribution to the debate on national

religion that William Godwin and his followers had provoked

in the 1790's. Because Mary Shelley originally published

Frankenstein anonymously, many people suspected that her

husband was the novel's architect. Sir Walter Scott wrote an

enthusiastic early review of the novel in Blackwood's

Edinburgh Magazine (March 1818) that "established

Frankenstein's 'stature' and novelty on 'supernatural' fiction,

and the author's 'original genius.' Scott, like most people,

assumed that [Percy] Shelley had written Frankenstein"

(Sunstein 156). The novel's dedication to Godwin led many

early critics to detect immorality and impiety in its pages. An

anonymous author from Edinburgh Magazine confidently states:

It [Frankenstein] is formed on the Godwinian

manner, and has all the faults, but many likewise

ofthe beauties ofthat model. In dark and gloomy

views ofnature and ofman, bordering too closely

on impiety,- in the most outrageous improbability,

- in sacrificing everything to effect, - it even goes

beyond its great prototype.... (249)

Radicalism, impiety, immorality, andthe"Godwinianmanner',were

all associated with the novel in its earlyreviews.

The mystery ofthe author's identity did not endure for

very long. To correct the misconception that Percywas the author,

Marywroteabriefnote to Scott taking responsibilityfor the novel.

Bennetthighlights the wittiness ofthis young author: "Marywrote

a letter thanking him for his kindness about her book" (Mitgang

29). Word traveled fast that the author ofFrankenstein was not

only a young woman but the daughter ofradical feminist Mary

Wollstonecraft and William Godwin (Smith 4; Sunstein 156).

Critics and contemporary readers were lost in the intricacies of

Mary's design. Searching for her father's and husband's radical

ideals in the novel, theyfailed to see one ofits fundamental themes.

Frankenstein is Mary Shelley's own Romantic revolt against her

110 111

father's political views. Godwin and the Romantic poets were too

blinded bytheir own egos to see that Mary was subtly criticizing

their radical ideals and literary works.

Terence Allan Hoagwood lists two characteristics of

Romanticism that explain why Mary Shelley may have used

Frankenstein to covertlyexpress her political views:

First, figural or symbolic substitutions are induced

in the discourses ofart whenpolitical1ycontentious

material is dangerous under political repression.

Second ... Romantic works oftentumto reflexive

thought and writing about symbolic substitution

and correlative acts ofinterpretation. (3)

When Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein, women had not yet

gained the right to vote; therefore, it was a risky endeavor for

a woman to write about politics. Knowing how her mother's

reputation had been dragged through the mud, Mary was

particularly cautious when she entered the public sphere. Her

caution was very likely augmented by the fact that she was

criticizing two men whom she loved and with whom she shared

much ofher life--her husband and her father, both ofwhom had

well-establishedpublic identities.

lain Crawford supports this idea ofa hidden agenda in

Frankenstein:

That Mary should have voiced her

qualifications in this covert manner need

hardly be surprising, since there is little cause

to assume that she articulated them fully even

to herself and every reason for understanding

why they should have remained disguised in

print.(259)

Her conservative message was cleverly "disguised in print,"

but for Crawford to say that she did not "fully articulate them

even to herself' (259) deprives Shelley of the credit she

deserves for writing this meticulously crafted novel. She

deliberately chose to express her opinions clandestinely.

Much ofwhat is known today about Mary Shelley's political

views comes from her once private letters and journals.

110 111

father's political views. Godwin and the Romantic poets were too

blinded bytheir own egos to see that Mary was subtly criticizing

their radical ideals and literary works.

Terence Allan Hoagwood lists two characteristics of

Romanticism that explain why Mary Shelley may have used

Frankenstein to covertlyexpress her political views:

First, figural or symbolic substitutions are induced

in the discourses ofart whenpolitical1ycontentious

material is dangerous under political repression.

Second ... Romantic works oftentumto reflexive

thought and writing about symbolic substitution

and correlative acts ofinterpretation. (3)

When Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein, women had not yet

gained the right to vote; therefore, it was a risky endeavor for

a woman to write about politics. Knowing how her mother's

reputation had been dragged through the mud, Mary was

particularly cautious when she entered the public sphere. Her

caution was very likely augmented by the fact that she was

criticizing two men whom she loved and with whom she shared

much ofher life--her husband and her father, both ofwhom had

well-establishedpublic identities.

lain Crawford supports this idea ofa hidden agenda in

Frankenstein:

That Mary should have voiced her

qualifications in this covert manner need

hardly be surprising, since there is little cause

to assume that she articulated them fully even

to herself and every reason for understanding

why they should have remained disguised in

print.(259)

Her conservative message was cleverly "disguised in print,"

but for Crawford to say that she did not "fully articulate them

even to herself' (259) deprives Shelley of the credit she

deserves for writing this meticulously crafted novel. She

deliberately chose to express her opinions clandestinely.

Much ofwhat is known today about Mary Shelley's political

views comes from her once private letters and journals.

112

SylviaBowerbank uses Mary Shelley'sjournal to support

the beliefthat Mary has a "spirit ofconservatism," despite the

radicalism that dominated her father's literary circle (418). In a

journal entry from 1835, Mary reflects on the radical philosophies

that defined the Romantic period:

With regard to "the good cause" - the cause

of the advancement of freedom and

knowledge, of the rights of women, &c. - I

am not a person ofopinions [...] Some have a

passion for reforming the world; others do not

cling to particular opinions. That my parents

and [Percy] Shelley were of the former class

makes me respect it [...] I have argumentative

powers; I see things pretty clearly, but cannot

demonstrate them. Besides, I feel the counter­

arguments too strongly. I do not feel that I

could say aught to support the cause efficiently.

(Bowerbank 418-419)

........ 113

Although she would probably deny it, this entry shows Mary's

opinion about "the good cause" and reveals her critical

perspective on the period's political writers. The quotation

marks around "the good cause" suggest that Mary finds the

terminology at least partially suspect and seems to question

whether the cause was actually good. She also states that she

feels "the counter-arguments too strongly," which indicates

that she has in fact taken a stance against the radical politics

of her father's circle. This letter makes it clear that she was

much more conservative about politics than her parents and

husband. Mary did not want to change the world as drastically

as they did because she was more concerned about the loss of

innocent lives and the destruction caused by society's

revolutions.

The most convincing evidence of Mary's opposing

political views comes from the series of letters recently

discovered in Australia. In one letter to her cousin's husband,

Alexander Berry, Mary comments on the political situation

in England and Europe in the year 1848:

1

112

SylviaBowerbank uses Mary Shelley'sjournal to support

the beliefthat Mary has a "spirit ofconservatism," despite the

radicalism that dominated her father's literary circle (418). In a

journal entry from 1835, Mary reflects on the radical philosophies

that defined the Romantic period:

With regard to "the good cause" - the cause

of the advancement of freedom and

knowledge, of the rights of women, &c. - I

am not a person ofopinions [...] Some have a

passion for reforming the world; others do not

cling to particular opinions. That my parents

and [Percy] Shelley were of the former class

makes me respect it [...] I have argumentative

powers; I see things pretty clearly, but cannot

demonstrate them. Besides, I feel the counter­

arguments too strongly. I do not feel that I

could say aught to support the cause efficiently.

(Bowerbank 418-419)

........ 113

Although she would probably deny it, this entry shows Mary's

opinion about "the good cause" and reveals her critical

perspective on the period's political writers. The quotation

marks around "the good cause" suggest that Mary finds the

terminology at least partially suspect and seems to question

whether the cause was actually good. She also states that she

feels "the counter-arguments too strongly," which indicates

that she has in fact taken a stance against the radical politics

of her father's circle. This letter makes it clear that she was

much more conservative about politics than her parents and

husband. Mary did not want to change the world as drastically

as they did because she was more concerned about the loss of

innocent lives and the destruction caused by society's

revolutions.

The most convincing evidence of Mary's opposing

political views comes from the series of letters recently

discovered in Australia. In one letter to her cousin's husband,

Alexander Berry, Mary comments on the political situation

in England and Europe in the year 1848:

1

114 --- 115

Our public men perpetually make the grossest

mistakes, & all they do, had better be left

undone [...] Our colonies are just now ofthe

mightiest import, while strange & (mighty)

fearful events are in progress in Europe.

Barbarism - countless uncivilized men, long

concealed under the varnish of our social

system, are breaking out with the force of a

volcano and threatening order -law & peace.

[. . .] In France how unscrupulous was the

flattery that turned the heads of the working

classes & produced the horrible revolt just put

down. (Letters 363)

Since the letter was written in 1848, she is not talking about the

public men ofthe Romantic period. The men she is describing,

however, are the same public men that her father and husband

represented forty years earlier. She also makes a connection

between the architects of the revolt and the mobs of people

mobilized to fight for theircause: "Barbarism- COWlt1ess Wlcivilized

men, long concealed under the varnish ofour social system," (363)

refers to the men responsible for the revolt, and "the flattery that

turned the heads ofthe working class" (363) describes the works

ofthose men that enlisted the working class to fight for the cause.

Interestingly, Mary describes those responsible for creating the

revolt as "countless uncivilized men" (363) while the mobs of

people mobilized to fight are referred to as "the working classes"

(363). The relationship ofpoliticians to the lower classes parallels

Victor's relationship to his creation and raises the question­

examined in countless critical essays - ofwhether the creature or

Victor represents the true "monster." Mary's letter illustrates her

concern about contemporarypolitical issues, as well as her belief

in progressive reform rather than violent revolutions.

The most significant clue to the hidden agenda in

Frankenstein comes from Victor's "confidant," Robert

Walton. Walton's first letter to his sister Margaret Saville

reveals that he once aspired to be a Romantic poet:

These visions [the dream ofembarking on apolar

voyage] faded when I perused, for the first time,

~

114 --- 115

Our public men perpetually make the grossest

mistakes, & all they do, had better be left

undone [...] Our colonies are just now ofthe

mightiest import, while strange & (mighty)

fearful events are in progress in Europe.

Barbarism - countless uncivilized men, long

concealed under the varnish of our social

system, are breaking out with the force of a

volcano and threatening order -law & peace.

[. . .] In France how unscrupulous was the

flattery that turned the heads of the working

classes & produced the horrible revolt just put

down. (Letters 363)

Since the letter was written in 1848, she is not talking about the

public men ofthe Romantic period. The men she is describing,

however, are the same public men that her father and husband

represented forty years earlier. She also makes a connection

between the architects of the revolt and the mobs of people

mobilized to fight for theircause: "Barbarism- COWlt1ess Wlcivilized

men, long concealed under the varnish ofour social system," (363)

refers to the men responsible for the revolt, and "the flattery that

turned the heads ofthe working class" (363) describes the works

ofthose men that enlisted the working class to fight for the cause.

Interestingly, Mary describes those responsible for creating the

revolt as "countless uncivilized men" (363) while the mobs of

people mobilized to fight are referred to as "the working classes"

(363). The relationship ofpoliticians to the lower classes parallels

Victor's relationship to his creation and raises the question­

examined in countless critical essays - ofwhether the creature or

Victor represents the true "monster." Mary's letter illustrates her

concern about contemporarypolitical issues, as well as her belief

in progressive reform rather than violent revolutions.

The most significant clue to the hidden agenda in

Frankenstein comes from Victor's "confidant," Robert

Walton. Walton's first letter to his sister Margaret Saville

reveals that he once aspired to be a Romantic poet:

These visions [the dream ofembarking on apolar

voyage] faded when I perused, for the first time,

~

116

those poets whose effusions entranced my soul,

and lifted it to heaven. I also became a poet, and

for one year lived in aparadise ofmyowncreation

.... (Frankenstein 29)

Walton's dream of becoming a Romantic poet draws

a direct link between the Romantic poets that Mary is

criticizing and the novel's overreaching characters, Walton

and Victor. The connection between Shelley's fictional

characters and the famous poets of her time shows that the

ambition driving eager explorers and mad scientists also drives

Romantic poets.

The university where Victor studies offers another link

between Mary Shelley's fictional characters and the political

activists of the period. At Ingolstadt University, Victor meets

M. Waldman, his professorwho depicts modern scientists as gods:

These philosophers, whosehands seem onlymade

to dabble in dirt, and their eyes to pore over the

microscope or crucible, have indeed performed

miracles .... They ascend into the heavens: they

l

117

have discovered how the blood circulates, and

the nature ofthe air we breathe.

(Frankenstein 53)

Before the advent of modem science, scientists were

referred to as natural philosophers. In the years surrounding

the release of Frankenstein, there were great leaps made in

the fields of science and politics. The universal name

"philosophers" used to describe these professions blurs the

boundaries between political philosophers like William

Godwin and the period's scientists. Emily Sunstein draws

another significant parallel between Ingolstadt University and

the period's political activists, pointing out that "Ingolstadt

University [was] the cradle of the radical Illuminati sect"

(123). This University was the headquarters of "political

visionary" Adam Weishaupt, founder of the Illuminati.

Weishaupt later became a conservative, disillusioned by the

violence of the French Revolution (Sunstein 50; 427).

Marking the time-span in which the events of

Frankenstein unfold is difficult. Walton's letters to his sister are

116

those poets whose effusions entranced my soul,

and lifted it to heaven. I also became a poet, and

for one year lived in aparadise ofmyowncreation

.... (Frankenstein 29)

Walton's dream of becoming a Romantic poet draws

a direct link between the Romantic poets that Mary is

criticizing and the novel's overreaching characters, Walton

and Victor. The connection between Shelley's fictional

characters and the famous poets of her time shows that the

ambition driving eager explorers and mad scientists also drives

Romantic poets.

The university where Victor studies offers another link

between Mary Shelley's fictional characters and the political

activists of the period. At Ingolstadt University, Victor meets

M. Waldman, his professorwho depicts modern scientists as gods:

These philosophers, whosehands seem onlymade

to dabble in dirt, and their eyes to pore over the

microscope or crucible, have indeed performed

miracles .... They ascend into the heavens: they

l

117

have discovered how the blood circulates, and

the nature ofthe air we breathe.

(Frankenstein 53)

Before the advent of modem science, scientists were

referred to as natural philosophers. In the years surrounding

the release of Frankenstein, there were great leaps made in

the fields of science and politics. The universal name

"philosophers" used to describe these professions blurs the

boundaries between political philosophers like William

Godwin and the period's scientists. Emily Sunstein draws

another significant parallel between Ingolstadt University and

the period's political activists, pointing out that "Ingolstadt

University [was] the cradle of the radical Illuminati sect"

(123). This University was the headquarters of "political

visionary" Adam Weishaupt, founder of the Illuminati.

Weishaupt later became a conservative, disillusioned by the

violence of the French Revolution (Sunstein 50; 427).

Marking the time-span in which the events of

Frankenstein unfold is difficult. Walton's letters to his sister are

118

dated, but the decade and year are omitted. Warren Montag,

however, points to apassage that places the novel in the midst of

the French Revolution. Duringtheir journey to Scotland, Victor

and his friend Henry Clerval stop briefly inOxford, England:

Aswe entered this city, ourminds were filled with

the remembrance of the events that had been

transacted there more than a century and a half

before [emphasis added]. Itwas there that Charles

I. had collectedhis forces. Thiscityhad remained

faithful to him, after thewholenationhad forsaken

his cause to join the standard ofparliament and

liberty. Thememory ofthat unfortunate king, and

his companions ... gave a peculiar interest to

every part of the city, which they might be

supposed to have inhabited. The spirit ofelder

days found a dwelling here, and we delighted

to trace its footsteps. (Frankenstein 140)

Montag remarks, "Frankenstein's meditation on the

Revolution of 1642 in England locates the narrative in the

-

119

1790s, placing it in the midst ofthe French Revolution" (385).

This is not surprising considering that the French

Revolution was the major event of the period and that

Frankenstein was publishedjust two years after the defeat of

Napoleon in 1815 (384). What is remarkable about this

allusion is that "its tone is unexpectedly sympathetic to Charles

I, a monarch typically regarded by the Whigs (moderates of

the day), let alone the radicals of Shelley's circle, as the very

figure ofa tyrant" (385). This passage illustrates exactly how

Mary Shelley uses Frankenstein to discreetly express her

conservative political views.

The allusion to England's civil war is significantbecause it

reveals thatMaryShelleyis sympathetic not specificallyto Charles

I but to "the spirit ofelder days" that the king represented. After

Charles I was beheaded by order ofParliament in 1649, England

fell into a dark period ofchaos and tyranny. The new Parliament

was unable to accomplish anything, and dissolved ofits own accord.

Oliver Cromwell claimed to be an opponent ofabsolutism but

governed more absolutely than Charles 1. Few leaders have

•

118

dated, but the decade and year are omitted. Warren Montag,

however, points to apassage that places the novel in the midst of

the French Revolution. Duringtheir journey to Scotland, Victor

and his friend Henry Clerval stop briefly inOxford, England:

Aswe entered this city, ourminds were filled with

the remembrance of the events that had been

transacted there more than a century and a half

before [emphasis added]. Itwas there that Charles

I. had collectedhis forces. Thiscityhad remained

faithful to him, after thewholenationhad forsaken

his cause to join the standard ofparliament and

liberty. Thememory ofthat unfortunate king, and

his companions ... gave a peculiar interest to

every part of the city, which they might be

supposed to have inhabited. The spirit ofelder

days found a dwelling here, and we delighted

to trace its footsteps. (Frankenstein 140)

Montag remarks, "Frankenstein's meditation on the

Revolution of 1642 in England locates the narrative in the

-

119

1790s, placing it in the midst ofthe French Revolution" (385).

This is not surprising considering that the French

Revolution was the major event of the period and that

Frankenstein was publishedjust two years after the defeat of

Napoleon in 1815 (384). What is remarkable about this

allusion is that "its tone is unexpectedly sympathetic to Charles

I, a monarch typically regarded by the Whigs (moderates of

the day), let alone the radicals of Shelley's circle, as the very

figure ofa tyrant" (385). This passage illustrates exactly how

Mary Shelley uses Frankenstein to discreetly express her

conservative political views.

The allusion to England's civil war is significantbecause it

reveals thatMaryShelleyis sympathetic not specificallyto Charles

I but to "the spirit ofelder days" that the king represented. After

Charles I was beheaded by order ofParliament in 1649, England

fell into a dark period ofchaos and tyranny. The new Parliament

was unable to accomplish anything, and dissolved ofits own accord.

Oliver Cromwell claimed to be an opponent ofabsolutism but

governed more absolutely than Charles 1. Few leaders have

•

120 121 11!lr· bSULt 1I d 2 . bLl 4#.,

1 inspired more fear and hatred. Eleven years after the beheading up in order to serve the project ofprogress and

the Enlightenment but have ultimately served toofhis father, Charles II was welcomed back to England where he

call that veryproject into question. (384)restored the throne and traditional political system (Southgate 918).

After the collapse of the French monarchy, chaos ensued. Like the people ofEngland, Victor longs for the past. Victor now

Conservatives and even those who looked to the revolution with sees that nature's cruelty in death and childbirth is not as horrific

optimism began to question its resolve. The Romantic poets who as his own creation. The results ofboth Victor's experiment and

supported the revolution were at least partially to blame. Parliament's experiment turned out to be worse than the problem

In 1793, Godwin released An Enquiry Concerning itself

Political Justice, which biographer Emily Sunstein defines Warren Montag maintains that the English and French

as a "weighty anarcho-utilitarian treatise" (16). Godwin'srevolutions were "the most developed and elaborate social

proposal included the arguments for the abolition of alland political 'experiments' in modem history and both had

traditional institutions ofpolitical authority. Everest explains 'failed' ...." (385). By using the French Revolution as a

the radical nature of Godwin's Political Justice: backdrop for Frankenstein, Shelley draws a parallel between

Political Justice offered a somewhat self-the English Civil War and the French Revolution. This

consciously abstract outline ofreinforces one ofthe central themes ofthe novel. Montag explains:

'politicalanarchy,' which objected to allEven the most cursoryexaminationofthis singular

constraints whatsoever on the operation ofperiod reveals that its key themes are precisely

pure reason (constraints such as governments,those of Frankenstein: there is everywhere a

family, emotions). In a famous example Godwin sense ofmonstrous forces unwittingly conjured

120 121 11!lr· bSULt 1I d 2 . bLl 4#.,

1 inspired more fear and hatred. Eleven years after the beheading up in order to serve the project ofprogress and

the Enlightenment but have ultimately served toofhis father, Charles II was welcomed back to England where he

call that veryproject into question. (384)restored the throne and traditional political system (Southgate 918).

After the collapse of the French monarchy, chaos ensued. Like the people ofEngland, Victor longs for the past. Victor now

Conservatives and even those who looked to the revolution with sees that nature's cruelty in death and childbirth is not as horrific

optimism began to question its resolve. The Romantic poets who as his own creation. The results ofboth Victor's experiment and

supported the revolution were at least partially to blame. Parliament's experiment turned out to be worse than the problem

In 1793, Godwin released An Enquiry Concerning itself

Political Justice, which biographer Emily Sunstein defines Warren Montag maintains that the English and French

as a "weighty anarcho-utilitarian treatise" (16). Godwin'srevolutions were "the most developed and elaborate social

proposal included the arguments for the abolition of alland political 'experiments' in modem history and both had

traditional institutions ofpolitical authority. Everest explains 'failed' ...." (385). By using the French Revolution as a

the radical nature of Godwin's Political Justice: backdrop for Frankenstein, Shelley draws a parallel between

Political Justice offered a somewhat self-the English Civil War and the French Revolution. This

consciously abstract outline ofreinforces one ofthe central themes ofthe novel. Montag explains:

'politicalanarchy,' which objected to allEven the most cursoryexaminationofthis singular

constraints whatsoever on the operation ofperiod reveals that its key themes are precisely

pure reason (constraints such as governments,those of Frankenstein: there is everywhere a

family, emotions). In a famous example Godwin sense ofmonstrous forces unwittingly conjured

122

insisted that, confronted with a situation where it

was possible to save from death by fire either a

respected philosopher, or one's own wife or

mother, reason woulddictate that the philosopher

be saved, because that course ofaction would

yield the most benefit to people in general. (19)

Frances Winwar explains the impact that the book had: "His

Political Justice came out at a price that only members of a

perfected society could have afforded. Men on the seat ofpower

read the prophecies ofthe dreamer and, shaken, clamored for the

suppression ofsuch dangerous heresies" (4). William Pitt, Britain's

prime minister from 1783 to 1806 (Mullett 454), remarked, "A

three guinea book could never do muchharm among those who

had not three shillings to spare. He [Pitt] was mistaken" (Winwar

4). The book's theologies quickly spread among the lower and

middle classes. Sunstein adds that at the time of its release,

"perhaps no work ofequal bulk everhad such anumber ofreaders"

(16). The book ignited anew form ofpolitical activism led by the I I

first wave ofRomantic writers. l

123

Godwin's work was the most influentialbookofthe 1790s

among the radical-intellectual communitywhich includedWilliam

Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and William Blake.

Coleridge and Robert Southey, author of Joan ofAre, even

planned a"Godwinian" colony inwestemPennsylvania (Sunstein

16). The utopian democratic community inAmerica was to be

named "Pantisocracy, or equal rule by all" (Damrosch 520).

Winwar explains their dream as follows: "Inspired by their own

innocent living, they, too [like Godwin], would produce

imperishable works ... , they would found a robust and glorious

race - ofthe perfect man!" (5).

The ideologybehind this Godwinian colony is strikingly

similar to Victor Frankenstein's plan to improve humanity using

modem science. As Victor completes work on his creature, he

feverishly reveals the passions that drove him: "A new species

would bless me as its creatorand source; manyhappy and excellent

natures would owe theirbeing to me" (58). Unfortunately for Victor

he "succeeded" in his scientific endeavor, but like many ofthe

Romantics' dreams, his vision produced terrible results.

"

122

insisted that, confronted with a situation where it

was possible to save from death by fire either a

respected philosopher, or one's own wife or

mother, reason woulddictate that the philosopher

be saved, because that course ofaction would

yield the most benefit to people in general. (19)

Frances Winwar explains the impact that the book had: "His

Political Justice came out at a price that only members of a

perfected society could have afforded. Men on the seat ofpower

read the prophecies ofthe dreamer and, shaken, clamored for the

suppression ofsuch dangerous heresies" (4). William Pitt, Britain's

prime minister from 1783 to 1806 (Mullett 454), remarked, "A

three guinea book could never do muchharm among those who

had not three shillings to spare. He [Pitt] was mistaken" (Winwar

4). The book's theologies quickly spread among the lower and

middle classes. Sunstein adds that at the time of its release,

"perhaps no work ofequal bulk everhad such anumber ofreaders"

(16). The book ignited anew form ofpolitical activism led by the I I

first wave ofRomantic writers. l

123

Godwin's work was the most influentialbookofthe 1790s

among the radical-intellectual communitywhich includedWilliam

Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and William Blake.

Coleridge and Robert Southey, author of Joan ofAre, even

planned a"Godwinian" colony inwestemPennsylvania (Sunstein

16). The utopian democratic community inAmerica was to be

named "Pantisocracy, or equal rule by all" (Damrosch 520).

Winwar explains their dream as follows: "Inspired by their own

innocent living, they, too [like Godwin], would produce

imperishable works ... , they would found a robust and glorious

race - ofthe perfect man!" (5).

The ideologybehind this Godwinian colony is strikingly

similar to Victor Frankenstein's plan to improve humanity using

modem science. As Victor completes work on his creature, he

feverishly reveals the passions that drove him: "A new species

would bless me as its creatorand source; manyhappy and excellent

natures would owe theirbeing to me" (58). Unfortunately for Victor

he "succeeded" in his scientific endeavor, but like many ofthe

Romantics' dreams, his vision produced terrible results.

"

124

As the violent excess ofthe Reign oITerrorbecame more

widely known, support for the revolution faded and a spirit of

conservatism spread throughout England. Many blamed the

extremist poets who had publicly supported revolution for inciting

the violence. One ofthe period's most renowned critics, William

Hazlitt, blasts the liberal writers in his article "Lectures on the

English Poets" which appeared in the weekly newspaper The

Examiner:

Mr. Wordsworth is at the head of ... the Lake

school ofpoetry.... This school ofpoetryhad its

origins in the FrenchRevolution, or rather in those

sentiments and opinions which produced that

revolution .... Our poetical literature wanted

something to stir it up, and found that something

in the principles and events of the French

Revolution. (Everest 78)

Attacks on the liberal poets became commonplace in the press.

Ina scene suggestive ofthe many film adaptations ofFrankenstein,

a mob spurred on bythe growing hostility towards the "damned

125

Jacobins" surrounded Wordsworth's house protesting against his

radical views. The angrymob ultimatelydrove Wordsworth and

his sister out oftheir home inNether Stowey(58).

MaryWollstonecraft Shelleywas born in 1797 during the

climax ofthe turbulent events that shaped the Romantic period.

Critic Robert M. Ryan cites the importance ofrecent analyses of

Mary Shelley's writing in defining the period:

Mary Shelleymerits attention in anystudy ofthe

British Romantic period, not onlybecause ofher

close personal relationship with manyofthe poets

and political philosophers who exemplified what

her husband called 'the spirit ofthe age' but also

because she developed her own original critical

perspective on the values represented by that

spirit, a perspective that has earned increasing

attention in more recent revaluations ofBritish

Romanticism. (179)

Keeping with the "spirit of the age," Mary uses Victor

Frankenstein as a "symbolic substitution" for the Romantic

•

'~;:..

124

As the violent excess ofthe Reign oITerrorbecame more

widely known, support for the revolution faded and a spirit of

conservatism spread throughout England. Many blamed the

extremist poets who had publicly supported revolution for inciting

the violence. One ofthe period's most renowned critics, William

Hazlitt, blasts the liberal writers in his article "Lectures on the

English Poets" which appeared in the weekly newspaper The

Examiner:

Mr. Wordsworth is at the head of ... the Lake

school ofpoetry.... This school ofpoetryhad its

origins in the FrenchRevolution, or rather in those

sentiments and opinions which produced that

revolution .... Our poetical literature wanted

something to stir it up, and found that something

in the principles and events of the French

Revolution. (Everest 78)

Attacks on the liberal poets became commonplace in the press.

Ina scene suggestive ofthe many film adaptations ofFrankenstein,

a mob spurred on bythe growing hostility towards the "damned

125

Jacobins" surrounded Wordsworth's house protesting against his

radical views. The angrymob ultimatelydrove Wordsworth and

his sister out oftheir home inNether Stowey(58).

MaryWollstonecraft Shelleywas born in 1797 during the

climax ofthe turbulent events that shaped the Romantic period.

Critic Robert M. Ryan cites the importance ofrecent analyses of

Mary Shelley's writing in defining the period:

Mary Shelleymerits attention in anystudy ofthe

British Romantic period, not onlybecause ofher

close personal relationship with manyofthe poets

and political philosophers who exemplified what

her husband called 'the spirit ofthe age' but also

because she developed her own original critical

perspective on the values represented by that

spirit, a perspective that has earned increasing

attention in more recent revaluations ofBritish

Romanticism. (179)

Keeping with the "spirit of the age," Mary uses Victor

Frankenstein as a "symbolic substitution" for the Romantic

•

'~;:..

•126 ~ 127t:;J L~

poets and their ideological leader. Victor is a composite ofthe Walking the streets ina daze onthat drearymoming, Victor recites .~i ,writers ofthe Romantic period who tried to re-shape the traditional a passage from Coleridge's "TheRime oftheAncient Mariner":

political and class structure with theirworks. Shelleyanalyzes the Myheart palpitated in the sickness offear; and I hurried on with

ethical nature ofthe writers and suggests that they, like Victor, irregular steps, not daring to look about me:

shouldtakemoral responsibilityfor theircreations. The relationship Like one who, on a lonely road,

between Victor and the creature can be viewed as a metaphor for Doth walk in fear and dread,

the relationship between the artist and his work. Mary Shelley And turns no more his head;

supports this metaphor in the 1831 introduction to her novel. While Because he knows a frightful fiend

Doth close behind him tread. (62) thinking of"herghost story"(24), Maryenvisions, for the first time,

The first part oftheAncient Mariner's penance is complete becauseVictor's response to his creation: "His success would terrify the

he has seen the error of his ways and now loves all of God'sartist; he would rush away from his odious handwork, horror­

creatures. Victor has also seen the error ofhis ways. From that stricken" (24). Many writers who supportedthe FrenchRevolution

morning on, Victor no longer has any desire to pursue his scientificwere also "horror-stricken" when they heard reports of the

endeavors. Although he agrees to make the creature a bride, his bloodshed and disorder during the infamous Reign ofTerror.

conscience does not allow him to do it: "Ihad resolved in my own Victor Frankenstein and the Romantic poets share a

mind, that to create another like the fiend Ihad first made would common curse: guilt, regret, and an infinite longing for the way

be an act of the basest and most atrocious selfishness; and I things were before their ''works'' were released. Victor's regret

banished from mymind everythought that could lead to adifferentand longing for the past begins the morning after he completes his

conclusion" (Frankenstein 148). Victor's quest for omnipotence"monster." This is also when he begins to quote Romantic poets.

....

•126 ~ 127t:;J L~

poets and their ideological leader. Victor is a composite ofthe Walking the streets ina daze onthat drearymoming, Victor recites .~i ,writers ofthe Romantic period who tried to re-shape the traditional a passage from Coleridge's "TheRime oftheAncient Mariner":

political and class structure with theirworks. Shelleyanalyzes the Myheart palpitated in the sickness offear; and I hurried on with

ethical nature ofthe writers and suggests that they, like Victor, irregular steps, not daring to look about me:

shouldtakemoral responsibilityfor theircreations. The relationship Like one who, on a lonely road,

between Victor and the creature can be viewed as a metaphor for Doth walk in fear and dread,

the relationship between the artist and his work. Mary Shelley And turns no more his head;

supports this metaphor in the 1831 introduction to her novel. While Because he knows a frightful fiend

Doth close behind him tread. (62) thinking of"herghost story"(24), Maryenvisions, for the first time,

The first part oftheAncient Mariner's penance is complete becauseVictor's response to his creation: "His success would terrify the

he has seen the error of his ways and now loves all of God'sartist; he would rush away from his odious handwork, horror­

creatures. Victor has also seen the error ofhis ways. From that stricken" (24). Many writers who supportedthe FrenchRevolution

morning on, Victor no longer has any desire to pursue his scientificwere also "horror-stricken" when they heard reports of the

endeavors. Although he agrees to make the creature a bride, his bloodshed and disorder during the infamous Reign ofTerror.

conscience does not allow him to do it: "Ihad resolved in my own Victor Frankenstein and the Romantic poets share a

mind, that to create another like the fiend Ihad first made would common curse: guilt, regret, and an infinite longing for the way

be an act of the basest and most atrocious selfishness; and I things were before their ''works'' were released. Victor's regret

banished from mymind everythought that could lead to adifferentand longing for the past begins the morning after he completes his

conclusion" (Frankenstein 148). Victor's quest for omnipotence"monster." This is also when he begins to quote Romantic poets.

....

128 129 •

has ended, but like theAncient Mariner he is not yet forgiven for

his sin. In the hope that others will learn from his mistakes, the

Marinermust relive the events ofhis voyage through hell over and

over as he wanders the earth telling his story. He does this because

he knows "a frightful fiend" is following him, the "fiend" of guilt

for killing the holybird and the horror ofGod's fury. Victor too is

compelled to tell his story as he scours the earth for his creation.

PeterKitson describes the influence the French Revolution

had on Coleridge's poem: 'The ideas ofguilt andrestorationwhich

areirnplicitin'TheRirneoftheAncientMariner'weredeveloped

by Coleridge over several years and grew out ofhis observation

of the career of the French Revolution" (25). He adds that

"Coleridge was disillusioned with the French Revolution but also

convinced ofthe depth ofhis own country's guilt ... During the

composition of 'TheRirne ofthe Ancient Mariner' Coleridge was

brooding upon his own sense of personal guilt" (27). The

connection between the poet's responsibility for his work and

Victor's responsibility for his creation becomes even more clear,

as Mary Lowe-Evans highlights the impact of the poem on

Frankenstein: '" [The] Rime oftheAncient Mariner' is still one of

the most effective treatments of the sins of an overreaching

individual against the community. Mary Shelley would recall

Coleridge's haunting words and use them to reinforce the same

theme in Frankenstein" (3). lain Crawford illustrates the

connection between the texts in greater detail:

The relationshipbetween the two texts is perhaps

more profOlll1d1yseen intheir commonfocus upon

the forces of creative obsession, the demonic

capacities ofthe human mind, and the destructive

energies released when these two clash. (255)

In Victor's case the "frightful fiend" can be interpreted

literally as his creation lurking in the shadows, butwhat trulyhaunts

him is his guilt for creating such a creature: "1 felt as if1had

committed some great crime, the consciousness ofwhich haunted

me... but 1had indeed drawn down a curse upon my head, as

mortal as that ofcrime" (142). Victor continues to reinforce this

theme ofregret throughout his narrative.

128 129 •

has ended, but like theAncient Mariner he is not yet forgiven for

his sin. In the hope that others will learn from his mistakes, the

Marinermust relive the events ofhis voyage through hell over and

over as he wanders the earth telling his story. He does this because

he knows "a frightful fiend" is following him, the "fiend" of guilt

for killing the holybird and the horror ofGod's fury. Victor too is

compelled to tell his story as he scours the earth for his creation.

PeterKitson describes the influence the French Revolution

had on Coleridge's poem: 'The ideas ofguilt andrestorationwhich

areirnplicitin'TheRirneoftheAncientMariner'weredeveloped

by Coleridge over several years and grew out ofhis observation

of the career of the French Revolution" (25). He adds that

"Coleridge was disillusioned with the French Revolution but also

convinced ofthe depth ofhis own country's guilt ... During the

composition of 'TheRirne ofthe Ancient Mariner' Coleridge was

brooding upon his own sense of personal guilt" (27). The

connection between the poet's responsibility for his work and

Victor's responsibility for his creation becomes even more clear,

as Mary Lowe-Evans highlights the impact of the poem on

Frankenstein: '" [The] Rime oftheAncient Mariner' is still one of

the most effective treatments of the sins of an overreaching

individual against the community. Mary Shelley would recall

Coleridge's haunting words and use them to reinforce the same

theme in Frankenstein" (3). lain Crawford illustrates the

connection between the texts in greater detail:

The relationshipbetween the two texts is perhaps

more profOlll1d1yseen intheir commonfocus upon

the forces of creative obsession, the demonic

capacities ofthe human mind, and the destructive

energies released when these two clash. (255)

In Victor's case the "frightful fiend" can be interpreted

literally as his creation lurking in the shadows, butwhat trulyhaunts

him is his guilt for creating such a creature: "1 felt as if1had

committed some great crime, the consciousness ofwhich haunted

me... but 1had indeed drawn down a curse upon my head, as

mortal as that ofcrime" (142). Victor continues to reinforce this

theme ofregret throughout his narrative.

130 T

As Victor reflects on the death of Justine Moritz, for

example, he remarks:

I no longer see the world and its works as they

before appeared to me. Before, I looked upon

the accounts ofvice and injustice, that I read in

books or heard from others, as tales ofancient

days, or imaginaryevils; at leasttheywere remote,

and more familiar to reason than to the

imagination; but now miseryhas come, and men

appear to me as monsters thirsting for each other's

blood. (88)

The phrase "(m)onsters thirsting for each other's blood"

foreshadows a letter written by Mary in 1848 which describes

dreadful events in Europe. In her meticulouslyconstructed novel,

Victor's new reality reinforces the regret and longing for the past

that both he and the Romantic poets felt. If Wordsworth or

Coleridge and the French Revolution are substituted for Victor

and his "monster," it becomes clear that this passage describes

exactly how the Romantic poets felt about the revolution they

131

had embraced. Charles Schug explains the paradox oftheir curse

in greater detail:

The implied author ofFrankenstein impresses

us with a sense that the formulation ofvalues is

continuous, that we can never achieve a final

fonnulation (this is theposition ofthe Romanticist),

and so is Frankensteinhimselfin the same situation:

he recognizes that his pursuit ofthe monster is

both futile and compulsory. It is futile because its

ultimate aim is to achieve a finality that is

impossibIe, since what he is chasing is not really

his physical creation, the monster, but some

solution to the terrible and monstrous moral

questions that he has previously tried to avoid

but which were merely exacerbated while the

monster one by one murdered the people

Frankenstein loved. (615)

Mary Shelley draws further parallels between Victor and his

Romantic counterparts as Victor goes on to quote more poems

•

130 T

As Victor reflects on the death of Justine Moritz, for

example, he remarks:

I no longer see the world and its works as they

before appeared to me. Before, I looked upon

the accounts ofvice and injustice, that I read in

books or heard from others, as tales ofancient

days, or imaginaryevils; at leasttheywere remote,

and more familiar to reason than to the

imagination; but now miseryhas come, and men

appear to me as monsters thirsting for each other's

blood. (88)

The phrase "(m)onsters thirsting for each other's blood"

foreshadows a letter written by Mary in 1848 which describes

dreadful events in Europe. In her meticulouslyconstructed novel,

Victor's new reality reinforces the regret and longing for the past

that both he and the Romantic poets felt. If Wordsworth or

Coleridge and the French Revolution are substituted for Victor

and his "monster," it becomes clear that this passage describes

exactly how the Romantic poets felt about the revolution they

131

had embraced. Charles Schug explains the paradox oftheir curse

in greater detail:

The implied author ofFrankenstein impresses

us with a sense that the formulation ofvalues is

continuous, that we can never achieve a final

fonnulation (this is theposition ofthe Romanticist),

and so is Frankensteinhimselfin the same situation:

he recognizes that his pursuit ofthe monster is

both futile and compulsory. It is futile because its

ultimate aim is to achieve a finality that is

impossibIe, since what he is chasing is not really

his physical creation, the monster, but some

solution to the terrible and monstrous moral

questions that he has previously tried to avoid

but which were merely exacerbated while the

monster one by one murdered the people

Frankenstein loved. (615)

Mary Shelley draws further parallels between Victor and his

Romantic counterparts as Victor goes on to quote more poems

•

T3132

bythe Romantics that are all about regret and longing fur the past: in particular, stood steadfast in the face of what he viewed as 13

Percy Shelley's Mutability (1816):"Man's yesterday may ne'er

be like his morrow [...J" (qtd. in Schug 92) and William

Wordsworth's Lines composed a few miles above Tintern

Abbey (1798): "- The sounding cataract / Haunted him like a

passion [...]" (qtd. in Schug 137). Coleridge suggested to

Wordsworth that he should shape his destiny as the great poet of

his age by writing an epic account ofthe effects ofthe French

Revolution ontheir own generation. This autobiographical poem

- about what Everest describes as, "the pristine elation and

enthusiasm ofthose years with a saddened, elegiac tone, subtly

endowed by the perspectives ofa now older Englishmen looking

back in sober disenchantment ..." (qtd in Schug 13) - became

known as "The Prelude" (qtd in Schug 12-14). Controversial

literature did not end with the French Revolution, nor did it end

with the first generation ofRomantic writers. Percy Shelley, Lord

Byron, and John Keats continued to blaze anew trail against the

religious, political, and social conventions ofthe day. Percy Shelley,

tyranny and oppression.

Inher introduction, Mary Shelleythanks herhusband for

his "incitement" in fonning Frankenstein: ''Icertainlydid not owe

the suggestion ofone incident, nor scarcely ofone train offeeling,

to my husband, and yet for his incitement, it would never have

taken the form in which it was presented to the world" (25). If

one reads her letters written around the same time as this

introduction, the passage takes on new meaning. Percy Shelley's

"incitement" has been assumed to mean encouragement to turn

her ghost story into a larger work, the novel we as know it today.

This may be true; however, Mary Shelley is also implying that

Percyhimself-withhis radical views anddetermination to change

the world - has incited Mary to fashion her characters and her

moral theme as she did. While Percy Bysshe Shelley continued

to test the political boundaries ofsociety with his radical poems,

Mary Shelleycounted the cost ofpolitical upheaval.

One central theme ofFrankenstein appears in manyof

Mary Shelley's letters: "seek happiness in tranquility, and avoid

~

T3132

bythe Romantics that are all about regret and longing fur the past: in particular, stood steadfast in the face of what he viewed as 13

Percy Shelley's Mutability (1816):"Man's yesterday may ne'er

be like his morrow [...J" (qtd. in Schug 92) and William

Wordsworth's Lines composed a few miles above Tintern

Abbey (1798): "- The sounding cataract / Haunted him like a

passion [...]" (qtd. in Schug 137). Coleridge suggested to

Wordsworth that he should shape his destiny as the great poet of

his age by writing an epic account ofthe effects ofthe French

Revolution ontheir own generation. This autobiographical poem

- about what Everest describes as, "the pristine elation and

enthusiasm ofthose years with a saddened, elegiac tone, subtly

endowed by the perspectives ofa now older Englishmen looking

back in sober disenchantment ..." (qtd in Schug 13) - became

known as "The Prelude" (qtd in Schug 12-14). Controversial

literature did not end with the French Revolution, nor did it end

with the first generation ofRomantic writers. Percy Shelley, Lord

Byron, and John Keats continued to blaze anew trail against the

religious, political, and social conventions ofthe day. Percy Shelley,

tyranny and oppression.

Inher introduction, Mary Shelleythanks herhusband for

his "incitement" in fonning Frankenstein: ''Icertainlydid not owe

the suggestion ofone incident, nor scarcely ofone train offeeling,

to my husband, and yet for his incitement, it would never have

taken the form in which it was presented to the world" (25). If

one reads her letters written around the same time as this

introduction, the passage takes on new meaning. Percy Shelley's

"incitement" has been assumed to mean encouragement to turn

her ghost story into a larger work, the novel we as know it today.

This may be true; however, Mary Shelley is also implying that

Percyhimself-withhis radical views anddetermination to change

the world - has incited Mary to fashion her characters and her

moral theme as she did. While Percy Bysshe Shelley continued

to test the political boundaries ofsociety with his radical poems,

Mary Shelleycounted the cost ofpolitical upheaval.

One central theme ofFrankenstein appears in manyof

Mary Shelley's letters: "seek happiness in tranquility, and avoid

~

134

ambition" (183). She may not have been able to discourage her

husband and her father in their devotion to radical political

philosophy, but one letter reveals that she was able to prevent her

son Percy from following in their footsteps.

In a letter to Alexander Berry she writes:

You say in your letter'Were you a young Man of

Percy's age & fortune you would devote yourself

to scientific pursuits & the improvements ofyour

estates, instead ofembroiling yourselfin politics.'

These words have reached us at an opportune

moment - When I wrote last in March, Percy

was canvassing the boro ofHorsham - he was

then a single Man, Now he is married - he has

given up politics & is about to settle in the country

- on his estate. (363)

Mary's injunction to "seek happiness in tranquility, and avoid

ambition" is clearlyreflected in this letter: it is the same theme that

she expands in her novel Frankenstein. Her message was

r 135

d' 1 . i lrected to her father and his radical circle in her nove; It was

later directed to her son through her letters.

Just as Walton rebelled against his fatherbybecoming an

arctic explorer andVictor rebelled against his father by pursuing

nature's secrets, Mary rebelled against her father by writing

Frankenstein as her personal response to his radical views. She

voiced her conservative politics in a complex manner that has

remained disguised in print for more than a century. The novel's

fictional characters are composites ofthe overreaching writers of

the Romantic period bywhom Mary was surrounded as a young

child. She analyzes the ethical nature ofthese writers and implies

that they, like Victor, should take moral responsibility for their

creations. With the recent discovery of the letters and the

subsequent critical revaluations ofherworks, MaryWollstonecraft

Shelleyhas finally emerged from the shadow ofthe great Romantic

writers and taken her rightful place among them.

•

134

ambition" (183). She may not have been able to discourage her

husband and her father in their devotion to radical political

philosophy, but one letter reveals that she was able to prevent her

son Percy from following in their footsteps.

In a letter to Alexander Berry she writes:

You say in your letter'Were you a young Man of

Percy's age & fortune you would devote yourself

to scientific pursuits & the improvements ofyour

estates, instead ofembroiling yourselfin politics.'

These words have reached us at an opportune

moment - When I wrote last in March, Percy

was canvassing the boro ofHorsham - he was

then a single Man, Now he is married - he has

given up politics & is about to settle in the country

- on his estate. (363)

Mary's injunction to "seek happiness in tranquility, and avoid

ambition" is clearlyreflected in this letter: it is the same theme that

she expands in her novel Frankenstein. Her message was

r 135

d' 1 . i lrected to her father and his radical circle in her nove; It was

later directed to her son through her letters.

Just as Walton rebelled against his fatherbybecoming an

arctic explorer andVictor rebelled against his father by pursuing

nature's secrets, Mary rebelled against her father by writing

Frankenstein as her personal response to his radical views. She

voiced her conservative politics in a complex manner that has

remained disguised in print for more than a century. The novel's

fictional characters are composites ofthe overreaching writers of

the Romantic period bywhom Mary was surrounded as a young

child. She analyzes the ethical nature ofthese writers and implies

that they, like Victor, should take moral responsibility for their

creations. With the recent discovery of the letters and the

subsequent critical revaluations ofherworks, MaryWollstonecraft

Shelleyhas finally emerged from the shadow ofthe great Romantic

writers and taken her rightful place among them.

•

136 , 137 If .\

IWorks Cited ...' Hoagwood, TerenceAllan. Politics, Philosophy, and the Pro-

Anonymous Review ofFrankenstein. Edinburgh Magazine duction o/Romantic Texts. DeKalb: Northern Illinois

March 1818: 249-253. University Press, 1996.

Bowerbank, Sylvia. "The Social Order VS The Wretch: Mary Kitson, Peter. ''The Influence ofthe FrenchRevolution." Samuel

Shelley's Contradictory-Mindedness in Frankenstein." T. Coleridge. Ed. Harold Bloom. Broomall: Chelsea

ELH 46 (1979): 418-431. HousePublishers, 2001.22-24.

Crawford, lain. "WadingThrough Slaughter: John Hampden, Lowe-Evans, Mary. Introduction. CriTical Essays on lvfary

Wollstonecraft Shelley. By Lowe-Evans. New York: .~,Thomas Gray, and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein." Stu-

G.K. Hall & Co., 1998. 3.dies in the Novel. 20 (1988): 249-261. <http://

Mitgang, Herbert. "A Hunch on Mary Shelley Pays Off." Thesearch.epnet.com/direct.asp?an=8531574&db=aph>.

New York Times 2 Dec. 1987, National ed.: 29. ,Damrosch, David, ed. The Longman Anthology ofBritish .....

Montag, Warren. "The 'Workshop ofFilthyCreation': AMarxist Literature. Vo1.2A 2nd ed. New York:Addison-Wes­ r-­Reading ofFrankenstein. Mary Shelley :s Frankenstein.ley Educational Publishers, 2003.

2nd ed. Ed. JohannaM. Smith. Boston: Bed ford/S 1.Egendorf, Laura K., ed. English Romanticism. San Diego: Green

Martin's, 2000.384-395. Haven Press, Inc., 2001.

I .~

Ryan, Robert M. The Romantic Reformation. Cambridge: Cam-Everest, Kelvin. English Romantic Poetry. Philadelphia: Open

bridge UniversityPress, 1997.UniversityPress, 1990.

Schug, Charles. 'TheRomantic FormofMaryShelley's Franken­

stein." Studies in English Literature. 17

____________--..Jjl ""

136 , 137 If .\

IWorks Cited ...' Hoagwood, TerenceAllan. Politics, Philosophy, and the Pro-

Anonymous Review ofFrankenstein. Edinburgh Magazine duction o/Romantic Texts. DeKalb: Northern Illinois

March 1818: 249-253. University Press, 1996.

Bowerbank, Sylvia. "The Social Order VS The Wretch: Mary Kitson, Peter. ''The Influence ofthe FrenchRevolution." Samuel

Shelley's Contradictory-Mindedness in Frankenstein." T. Coleridge. Ed. Harold Bloom. Broomall: Chelsea

ELH 46 (1979): 418-431. HousePublishers, 2001.22-24.

Crawford, lain. "WadingThrough Slaughter: John Hampden, Lowe-Evans, Mary. Introduction. CriTical Essays on lvfary

Wollstonecraft Shelley. By Lowe-Evans. New York: .~,Thomas Gray, and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein." Stu-

G.K. Hall & Co., 1998. 3.dies in the Novel. 20 (1988): 249-261. <http://

Mitgang, Herbert. "A Hunch on Mary Shelley Pays Off." Thesearch.epnet.com/direct.asp?an=8531574&db=aph>.

New York Times 2 Dec. 1987, National ed.: 29. ,Damrosch, David, ed. The Longman Anthology ofBritish .....

Montag, Warren. "The 'Workshop ofFilthyCreation': AMarxist Literature. Vo1.2A 2nd ed. New York:Addison-Wes­ r-­Reading ofFrankenstein. Mary Shelley :s Frankenstein.ley Educational Publishers, 2003.

2nd ed. Ed. JohannaM. Smith. Boston: Bed ford/S 1.Egendorf, Laura K., ed. English Romanticism. San Diego: Green

Martin's, 2000.384-395. Haven Press, Inc., 2001.

I .~

Ryan, Robert M. The Romantic Reformation. Cambridge: Cam-Everest, Kelvin. English Romantic Poetry. Philadelphia: Open

bridge UniversityPress, 1997.UniversityPress, 1990.

Schug, Charles. 'TheRomantic FormofMaryShelley's Franken­

stein." Studies in English Literature. 17

____________--..Jjl ""

138

J Submission Guidelines

(1977): 607-619. <http://search.epnet.com/direct.asp

?an=4721804&db=aph>.

Shelley, Mary. Mary Shelley So Frankenstein. 2nd ed. Ed.

JohannaM. Smith. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin's, 2000.

-. SelectedLetters o/Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley. Ed. Betty

B. Bennett. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University

Press, 1995.

Smith, Johanna M. Introduction. Mary Shelley So Frankenstein.

2nd ed. Boston: Bedford/St. Martins, 2000. 3-19.

Sunstein, EmilyW. Mary Shelley: Romance andReality. Balti­

more: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1989.

Winwar, Frances. The Romantic Rebels. Boston: Little, Brown,

and Company, 1935.

Wohlpart, JamesA. "ATradition ofMale Poetics: Mary Shelley's

'Frankenstein' as anAllegoryofArt." Midwest Quaner­

ly. 39 (1998): 265-280. <http://search.epnet.com/

direct.asp?an=551488&db=aph>.

The Oswald Review is a refereed, international undergraduate journal of criti­cism and research in the discipline ofEnglish. Published annually, The Oswald Review accepts submissions in the field of English from undergraduates.

150-200 word abstract.

Three copies of each manuscript and a computer disk containing the finished version of theiubmission in Microsoft Word (IBM compatible).

Typeface: Times New Roman 12 pt.

All copy should be provided in current MLA format, justified left only.

Two title pages:

one to contain title of work only

one to contain author's name; address (both local and permanent); phone number & email address; name and address of college or university; name and department of endorsing professor.

Professor's note that the work is original for undergraduate course and free of

plagiarism

Length: 5-20 pages.

Materials will not be returned. SASE for results.

Postmark Deadline: March 31(or nearest business day) for submissions. Notification July 30. No electronic submissions.

Send inquiries and submissions to:

Tom Mack, Ph.D. or Phebe Davidson, Ph.D. Department of English University of South Carolina Aiken 471 University Parkway Aiken, SC 29801

Email to: tomm@usca.eduorphebed@usca.edu (inquiries only)

, --'- ­

138

J Submission Guidelines

(1977): 607-619. <http://search.epnet.com/direct.asp

?an=4721804&db=aph>.

Shelley, Mary. Mary Shelley So Frankenstein. 2nd ed. Ed.

JohannaM. Smith. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin's, 2000.

-. SelectedLetters o/Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley. Ed. Betty

B. Bennett. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University

Press, 1995.

Smith, Johanna M. Introduction. Mary Shelley So Frankenstein.

2nd ed. Boston: Bedford/St. Martins, 2000. 3-19.

Sunstein, EmilyW. Mary Shelley: Romance andReality. Balti­

more: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1989.

Winwar, Frances. The Romantic Rebels. Boston: Little, Brown,

and Company, 1935.

Wohlpart, JamesA. "ATradition ofMale Poetics: Mary Shelley's

'Frankenstein' as anAllegoryofArt." Midwest Quaner­

ly. 39 (1998): 265-280. <http://search.epnet.com/

direct.asp?an=551488&db=aph>.

The Oswald Review is a refereed, international undergraduate journal of criti­cism and research in the discipline ofEnglish. Published annually, The Oswald Review accepts submissions in the field of English from undergraduates.

150-200 word abstract.

Three copies of each manuscript and a computer disk containing the finished version of theiubmission in Microsoft Word (IBM compatible).

Typeface: Times New Roman 12 pt.

All copy should be provided in current MLA format, justified left only.

Two title pages:

one to contain title of work only

one to contain author's name; address (both local and permanent); phone number & email address; name and address of college or university; name and department of endorsing professor.

Professor's note that the work is original for undergraduate course and free of

plagiarism

Length: 5-20 pages.

Materials will not be returned. SASE for results.

Postmark Deadline: March 31(or nearest business day) for submissions. Notification July 30. No electronic submissions.

Send inquiries and submissions to:

Tom Mack, Ph.D. or Phebe Davidson, Ph.D. Department of English University of South Carolina Aiken 471 University Parkway Aiken, SC 29801

Email to: tomm@usca.eduorphebed@usca.edu (inquiries only)

, --'- ­

Endorsing Professors

Dr. LisaEck Department of English Framingham State College Framingham, MA

Dr. Paul Nisly Department of English Messiah College Grantham, PA

Riccio Marinaccio Department of English Manhattan College Riverdale, New York City, New York

J. Bringle Department of English Fordham University New York, NY

Professor Steve Guthrie Department of English Agnes Scott College 114 East College Ave. Decatur, GA

ISSN 1520-9679

The Oswald Review Department of English

University of South Carolina Aiken Aiken, SC 29801

..